01. Quiet, Norm, and Break PT.1

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So breakfast was usually a quick, easy affair. Grab a plate, get food goo from the dispenser, sit down at the table with the other paladins, and eat.

The only things that slowed breakfast down or made it difficult were the awkward attempts at conversation the team would have around the table. While communication during missions was fine, off duty and in the castle as just people... not so much.

It was to be expected though, Lance supposed. They had only really formed team Voltron for about a month. And it was too busy in space, on the frontline of an intergalactic war, to have icebreakers. 

Not to mention that aside from that initial enthusiasm from actually forming Voltron (a miracle, Lance is sure), there wasn't much to say. No drive to really talk about things outside of the team as a whole.

And this was weird because even with Pidge and Hunk, whom Lance had known for over a year each, conversation was suddenly a hard thing to do. 'It's probably because of the war', Lance concedes as he lifts his second spoonful of goo to his mouth. 

The switch from students to soldiers could grate on any one of them. And it was likely the reason team Voltron kept to themselves. After all, how does one go from fighting for their lives and battle to caring enough about hobbies to talk about them? 

All Hunk wanted to do recently was stress-cook and tinker on the lions. Pidge at least was in her element, staring at lines of code and data for hours. But overall not things to chat about over breakfast. 

Lance knows how the weight of being in battle could make you distant from your surroundings. Which is why he carefully keeps his face neutral and looks across the long glass table. Everyone is present and dressed in their armor, despite the room being near silent. 

Pidge is tinkering with some metallic, obviously hand-made device, head low but eyes bright, presumably done eating already. She looks like she always does: borderline rested and quietly energetic. Hunk is beside her, watching her device with curiosity.

Shiro looks impeccable with his now familiar rested-yet-not set to his features, chatting quietly with the Princess while Keith sits dutifully at his side - probably listening into the conversation. And not partaking in it from the looks of it.

All as usual. The morning atmosphere is at it normally is (whatever normal apparently is for them in space): too quiet. Noiseless enough that Lance is preferring his mind to company, sitting without saying a word. And that's a normal way to start the day, the pattern.

Getting up discreetly, Lance goes to put his plate in the washer. No one has said a word to him yet. Maybe it was just Lance... Did they say good morning to each other before he got here? The other paladins were speaking to each other at least...

Nope. No fun to think about it like that.

Lance sits down to wait until Shiro and the Princess decide to walk them to the training deck. His brain drifts to the schedule. They were almost guaranteed to train until whenever Princess Allura dismissed them, since they did that everyday without fail since they got here. Group training no doubt. 

Which means another painful session of each paladin relying on themselves and not each other was in store for them. Literally painful since the shots from the drones and shocks from the mazes hurt a lot more now than they did the first week. 'Conditioning' or whatnot.

Swallowing back a sigh, Lance allows himself to dislike that option. Which means trying to avoid it. There has to be a way out of training; even if it means drawing attention. 

What to do...

"Hey guys! What are the chances we could change practice?" Lance asks the table loudly, hoping he wasn't overstepping. Equal parts blank and startled looks meet his, and Lance feels his shoulders tense as anxiousness creeps up his back. Nope, no. Why did I even-

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