shining like the stars

85

"What is it about memory cores and holding cells?" Lance asked philosophically, leaning forward against the bars. The holding cell was tiny, a one-person affair; if he stood in its center he could touch the walls at the same time with his arms outstretched. Not that there were actual walls. "I'm disappointed by how low tech this is," he said, rapping his knuckles on one of the metal bars as thick as his wrist. "I was expecting cool force fields that keep you incarcerated, not ... whatever this is."

"Are you ever going to shut up?" Keith asked.

"No," Lance said. "Is it annoying you?"

"Yes." Keith was seated in his own cell, his back to the bars that divided the two holding areas. He had pulled the hood up over his head again, and the dark, heavy material made him look like a sulking lump. Lance cocked his head and looked down the row of cells — there was an Altean in the one closest to the guard station, but aside from that prisoner they were the only ones in the whole block.

"I really thought we were gonna be yanked right in front of some council or police or something," he said instead, still leaning on the bars. He knew that they were being observed, but the Altean guards hadn't ventured down closer to their holding cells. If anything, Keith's ... condition ... was making them give the two paladins wide berth. Lance was mostly fine with this, except the further away the guards stayed, the harder it was to find out if anyone knew Rian, or even where to find him. "They're all terrified of you."

"Surprise, surprise," Keith muttered. "I don't know why you don't take their cue."

Lance rolled his eyes. "Not that again," he said, and Keith shifted a little but didn't turn around. "C'mon, man. How many times are we gonna do this? You've given me plenty of outs, I'm not afraid of you." He scratched his cheek with a finger thoughtfully. "Your fuzzy ears are kinda cute, actually. You know what, if you keep sulking I'm going to start calling you Mr. Fuzzypants."

This caused Keith to actually turn, and Lance saw the glow of his eyes under the hood. "I will fucking kill you, Lance."

"There he is," Lance said in that same cheerful tone. "Mr. Fuzzypants."

Keith groaned and leaned his head back against the bars. "Lance," he said plaintively.

"I bet I could get Shiro calling you that too. It'll be your new nickname. Well that, and Mullet." Lance smiled beatifically. "I love it."

"I'm finding it really hard to remember why it is I like you."

"Because I have a bangin' bod and a great personality." Lance leaned hard against the bars, watching the guard stand up and move to the door. "Hey, I think something's happening."

Something was indeed happening. Another guard in similar dress came through the door at the end of the brig. Keith stood up and leaned against the bars as well, trying to look past Lance down the corridor. They couldn't quite make out what was happening, at least until one of the guards gestured emphatically down the corridor, clearly at them. "Oh boy," Lance said, as two armed guards made their way down the corridor to where Lance and Keith were imprisoned. "Looks like it's party time."

"No, wait," Keith said — although Lance wasn't sure what Keith thought he was waiting for — and sure enough the second guard was dragging somebody by the arm.

Lance flinched back from the bars despite himself when the Altean guard slammed his hand very close to where Lance's face was. "Hey!" Lance yelped. "I thought you guys were peaceful."

"How many of you?" the guard said.

"Twenty-seven," Lance said. The guard banged the flat of his hand against the bar but this time Lance didn't flinch, his arms folded under the sweep of his makeshift cloak.