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Hurt/Comfort - Hurt/comfort is a fan fiction genre that involves the physical pain or emotional distress of one character, who is cared for by another character. The injury, sickness or other kind of hurt allows an exploration of the characters and their relationship.

- Post with Character Name | Series in the subject, and what role you'd rather play.
- Others respond.
- Roll a for a scene, play it out and have fun!

1. INJURY. You've been injured. Broken bones or bleeding out or maybe just a tiny little papercut. The choice is yours.
2. SICKNESS. You're sick and laid up in bed, at home or in a hospital. The severity is up to you.
3. FEAR/ANXIETY. Something is happening and you're scared beyond belief.
4. LOSS OF SENSES. Sight, touch, taste, hearing, smell, etc. You've lost some important sense or ability and now you're left to deal with it.
5. DESPAIR. Nothing is good or right anymore and you can't shake the depression. Maybe that friend of yours can help though...
6. BREAKUP. You've been dumped. You need someone to comfort you, possibly by the one who dumped you.
7. MAKE UP. Fight or break up, it's time to make up.
8. RESCUED. You've just been held captive and/or tortured for however long and finally, someone has come to the rescue.
9. BAD ROMANCE. Fight, cheated on, abused, whatever the case is, someone else can clearly see you need comfort from someone who isn't your terrible lover tonight.
10. LOSS. You've experience a loss of some kind and need help getting through it.
11. TIRED. You've had a heard life recently and you're just worn too thin to really care anymore. There's no fight left in you anymore. Can someone help change your mind?
12. INSOMNIA. You can't sleep anymore, no matter how hard you try. Maybe someone can give you company.
13. NIGHTMARES. Or, on the other end of the spectrum, you can't sleep without gruesome, horrible nightmares. Either someone is stuck in your dream with you, witnessing it or they're just waking you up, soothing you out of it.
14. SEPARATION. You're going to be separated for awhile or were separated for a long time. Either make up for lost time or try to spend every last moment together.
15. STRANDED. You've been stranded somewhere remote, with no help of anyone finding you for awhile. Can you survive this together?
16. SECRET. It's difficult having to keep that secret of yours, be it a relationship or something you just don't want to share with anybody else. Maybe it's okay to talk about it now though...

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[He's dad. He's got this. Or, conversely, he might be the one in need of comfort. Open to cross-canon/medium as well as canon crew]

(( OOC: Let's pretend they end up in the same place after the wormhole shenanigans? I hope this is okay! ))

[ Hunk was getting better at motion sickness management (baby steps!) until -- that. Whatever that was that got him hearing everyone express their distress and suddenly hear nothing.

He could've thrown up several times already, but the radio silence somehow overpowered the Yellow Lion's alarms, and in turn his usual reflex of surrendering his latest meal to the cockpit floor. He spent whatever amount of time between that and Yellow crashing, calling out for Lance, Pidge, Shiro, Keith, Allura, Coran, and even the mice.

The crash made him painfully aware of the present. He'll assess later on how much time had passed but -- There's a signal on my dash. It's the Black Lion. Shiro's in the Black Lion but I can't hear him. Gotta find him. Gotta get out and find Shiro.... More worrisome thoughts threatened to overwhelm him, but Hunk chose to focus on the one thought to spur him on for the time-being. Gotta stick together; gotta find Shiro.

Sooner than later, he came to a clearing made by the crash-landing of the Black Lion, the great robotic cat lying on its side, with broken branches, boughs and vines fallen over it. With a single-minded resolve, Hunk pounded his fist onto the Black Lion's nose. ]

Hey! Hey, Shiro! You in there? Shiro!

((and that works great for me!))

[He did what he could.

There was no controlling the free fall once they were shaken out of the castle and he'd watched, hands on the controls, fighting to keep Black stable, fighting to keep the connections open by pouring more power into the communication array, as the signals from the other paladins, his team, had blinked out in rapid succession.

And then it had been all he could do to try to keep Black stable as the wormhole had sucked them in and spun them like a child's to in a tornado.

He'd felt for Hunk on a visceral level at that point, he really had.

It hadn't helped that his side was on fire, flipping between fever hot and sickly cold, that he could feel the fingers of it spreading, seeping up from the entry wound. It didn't help that Black was so wounded inside over Zarkon's violation that he wasn't sure whether the nausea was his - or just his body's way of reacting to the wound inside of Black that was leaking humiliation and pain and horror and loathing and disgust and rage. He almost missed it when the wormhole finally spit them both out.

Except Black's controls went dark and gravity took over and then it was just a matter of trying to turn the crash into a controlled crash. He didn't get to ride it all the way through to see how successful he'd been, head impacting with the control panel during the first hit and, helmet or no, his eyesight went black and his conscious followed.

they need you... wake up! They need you. wakeupwakeupwake-

His head throbbed. His side throbbed. His shoulders, even his Galra arm, throbbed. For just a moment, before he opened his eyes, he could smell it. Sand and metal and old blood, sweat and stink and offal...

He came awake with an inhale that was too deep and immediately caused a groan. Squinted eyes open and registered that he was across the controls, that the controls were dark and that - ]

Hunk?

[It came out dry, whispered, pretty sure he was imagining - a throat clear, a painful exhale as he tried to push himself back into his seat and his voice was stronger the second time but no where near its usual. Controls down or not at least the comms in their helmets still worked.]

Hunk? Is that you?

[ Among the many things that preoccupied Hunk's mind is how (currently) unresponsive the Lions are. Are they tired? Will they recover? How long do they need to recover? Do they need the castleship for that? He just pounded and called at intervals. Please, oh pleasepleaseplease answer Shiro--]

!!

[ Their helmets! Of course! ]

Yeah! Yeah, Shiro, it's me! Aww man, you're okay-- are you okay?

[ That is definitely a mix of relief and worry. Shiro did not sound okay. A very prolific flowchart was already drawing itself in Hunk's mind as to what he might need depending on Shiro's injuries -- if any, and to what extent. ]

Can you open up? I'm right here!

[ It would be a good sign if Shiro could exit from the inside, but if not, Hunk could most likely find the external emergency override, thanks to poking at schematics with Pidge. ]

[He aches, his side is currently on fire, he can barely feel Black's awareness at all, his mind is trying very hard not to deal with being tossed out of Black and everything that had happened on the Galra ship and he's not sure where most of his team is.

And yet the sound of Hunk's voice, sounding so... Hunk still manages to pull the smile out of him, small and tight though it is.

He is so, so very glad to hear that voice. He does his best to keep his own steady and its better than previous attempts but he still doesn't like the catches and breaks in it.]

Good to hear your voice. Give me a minute.

[He'd like to exit under his own power to but the second he tries to push himself out of the chair his head spins and his side flares up so badly he has to lock his jaw down on a scream. The effort leaves him panting, sweat standing out on his forehead and cold chills moving over his bones. Not - not just yet than. He tells himself he just needs a few moments, a minute, to recover. A slow move of his legs and arms though shows nothing's broken and it gives him something to concentrate on until his eyesight stops spinning. Gingerly, he reaches over and twists the emergency lever that will open Black's jaws a fraction and the hatch at the back of her throat for access. One thing at a time. Make sure Hunk is all right.]

Have you heard from anyone else?

Y-yeah. Good to hear yours too, after all that....

[ Hunk, for good reason, was getting anxious to get a visual on Shiro. Just hearing what was going on, and having only those sounds to focus on only blew Hunk's worries out of proportion: did Shiro break his arm? Did he have a head injury? Was he stuck somehow?!

Some of his anxiety was alleviated seeing Black move. Yup, that was the emergency opening at work alright. It was one good sign that Shiro was able to move, on top of being able to speak. Good. Good. When he spoke next, it was no longer as panicked -- a controlled panic, sure, but still controlled. ]

Hold on! I got this.

[ Hunk clambers up Black's paw, leg, and shoulder just so it can complete opening up, enough to have both Paladins slip through. Speaking as he worked -- ]

I haven't heard from anyone else. Just you. For now! [ With a few loud clicks and a hiss, the emergency opening gives, allowing Hunk to look inside. He switched off the visor on his helmet, and moved so he could assist Shiro the best way possible. ] But you first. Where does it hurt?

[He's the team leader. It's his job to keep everyone together, to be the reassurance and the root of strength they all branch out from -

but damn. Is Hunk saying 'I got this' possibly the most reassuring thing in the world right now and Shiro closes his eyes and lets his head tip back against the seat for just a moment.

Hunk's a lot of things. He's a lot of things Shiro doesn't think he even realizes about himself. Good, strong, steady, dependable things. Shiro's proud of him and he's more than proud to have him on the team. But if he had to list off the top three qualities Hunk had 'capable' would be one of those words. And Shiro is so, so very grateful for that fact right now.

He does open his eyes when he hears Hunk inside Black though, breathes through his nose a few times to clear his head a little. No word from anyone else. That's bad. But he and Hunk are both alive and he decides that's a good sign for the others. Maybe they're even nearby, if he and Hunk ended up close. First things first though. He coughs a quiet chuckle at Hunk's question and doesn't deny it.]

Hit my head pretty hard. Nothing seems to be broken. Just rattled around. [He hesitates then. Debates it. Finally admits, lower:] My side feels like its on fire.

[ Hunk doubts a lot of things about himself a lot of the time, but as far as this adventure is concerned, he had learned (if not confirmed) that the things that he feels good about himself are true and real.

And that is no small part thanks to Shiro's leadership and the trust that he has placed on them as a ragtag team. Hunk feels right now that even if he were to be accused of putting Shiro on a pedestal, he will take that accusation and be that pedestal himself. Shiro has yet to do them wrong, and he will do everything he can to make sure that that trust is not, in any way, misplaced.

Hunk takes a moment to visually assess Shiro's condition: no visible break on the suit, helmet intact, no visible cuts nor bleeding. Good. He'll take every good thing he can get.

But, "My side feels like it's on fire" though -- ] Aaa-- you don't have a history of appendicitis, do you? Or you got hit by the levers? Wait --

[ Not that he would know how to treat appendicitis. Regardless, Hunk positions himself so he can help Shiro up -- ]

Come on, let's get you out and have a look at you. [ And not forgetting that bit ] And mind your head!

Edited (HTML fail :B) 2016-11-18 17:33 (UTC)

[Appendicitis? For half a second, Shiro's eyebrows go up - which makes his forehead ache a little before -

the sound he exhales is weak but holds a bit of humor too. Almost, he shakes his head - and then catches himself and decides against it.

They should really look into some kind of crash webbing for the seats on the lions or something...

He let's Hunk fuss around in the cramped cockpit and takes that moment of reassurance - does Hunk, does any of the team realize how much Shiro relies on them to give him the motivation he needs to do what he needs to do? - and then he exhales and pushes himself out of the seat, using the back of it as a level and leaning hard. The entire cockpit loops and twists and he's very sure the zipping black spots he sees in front of his eyes aren't really there. Gritting his teeth he breathes through them until his sight straightens out and clears. And he offers a slightly crooked, almost apologetic smile.]

Sorry. No appendicitis. It's - from the fight. With Haggar.

Ah geeze, you're right! Sorry!

[ Hunk remembers he was there. Probably not for most of the fight, given that he was following Allura's instructions and figuring out which one was the real Hagar to shoot at, but Shiro had been clutching his side when they retrieved him -- and he doesn't recall Shiro getting any medical attention between that time and now. ]

Probably not a good idea to move you around too much but--

[ Hunk looks around the cockpit. He remembers that there's an equivalent of a first aid kit in one of the compartments. Black's cockpit feels bigger, but the general layout is the same as Yellow's, at least. He sets up his mental checklist: (1) Shiro is conscious -- and keep him conscious; (2) He is able to breathe and talk; (3) Complaining of abdominal injury = vital organs alert; but, (4) no visible bleeding -- probably because of the black suit, but so far, he isn't smelling anything...?

Hunk feels the blood drain from his face when he realizes he might be facing an injury he has not been trained for. He bites the inside of his lip to bring himself back to focus. ]

Here: let's lie you down over here -- [ Good thing the space behind the pilot seat is roomy. Hunk is careful in setting Shiro down, mindful for any protests or complaints. ] We'll have to get the top part of your suit off and-- and I know there's a first-aid kit in here somewhere.

[Shiro honestly expected Hunk to escort him out of the lion - but he realizes as Hunk lowers him to the floor that - that's his old flight school thinking. Because a shuttle could explode. Black was much more solid and stable than that. Inside they had the advantage. Especially since Shiro wasn't even sure what outside even looked like, whether it was hostile or not -

He gave a little cough, winced and forced himself to sit upright, back to the wall. If he laid down -

he just didn't like being that vulnerable. It had nothing to do with Hunk.

While the other paladin, went for the first aid kit, Shiro gingerly prodded what ribs he could reach past his armor, shifted a little, experimental. The actions kept his mind focused. He'd had broken ribs before. He wasn't getting any of the stabs or twinges he remembered from that. Reaching up he, very slowly and very carefully, pulled his helmet off.

And the world spun again. He shut his eyes and held the helmet in both hands until the nausea and vertigo stopped and then opened his eyes. Stalling. Because - he didn't want to look at his side where Haggar's claws had caught him. Not -

not yet. He'd deal with that in a minute.]

Water packs?

[ Hunk had indeed reconsidered his initial plan of taking Shiro outside. Granted, he had rushed out of Yellow to find Shiro and had not encountered anything or anyone hostile so far, and given a chance to look back, he probably should have acted with far more caution.

Well. He's in this situation now. Like with a lot of things they have encountered in this adventure thus far, they'll deal with the blows as they come. ]

Right! Water.

[ Once Shiro's settled and does not risk being rattled, Hunk manages to find the relevant compartments: water, the first aid kit, and a blanket. He folds the blanket and carefully sets it under Shiro's head. Hunk then prepares the water pack, and brings it up to Shiro so he can drink with relative ease. ]

You're not... bleeding, are you? I mean, I gotta ask because I still don't know everything about how much these suits are good at protecting us, and what-- [ The mere thought of the unknown really throws him off. Hunk is actually quite scared of what he could see. Memories of movies involving face-huggers do not help. ] what kind of injury we're looking at.

[Shiro doesn't find it as surprising as maybe he should that Hunk's so gentle when he moves his head a little to set the folded blanket behind it and he manages a weak crooked smile before letting himself relax back a little. He runs through a few simple distance to fuel ratios in his head and thinks he's getting the answers right. He -

he really doesn't want his head anymore messed up than it already is.]

Thanks.

[He takes the water and sips carefully but everything seems to go down and stay down just fine and his mouth feels like the inside of a sandbox. Careful he swishes some water and doesn't taste blood when he swallows. That's nice.

Hunk's scared. Shiro doesn't need to be a mind-reader to pick up on that but he's holding it together. Shiro's proud of him. And grateful. Because he knows he's not at full steam yet so Hunk being so is reassuring. He exhales carefully and offers a smile.]

You're doing great, Hunk. [Another swallow and he finally forces himself to look down at his side where he can feel the malignant pulse in his side. The fabric of the flightsuit is torn and the exposed skin already has a few older scars showing but -

Shiro turns his head with a grimace of disgust.

The skin's serrated, laid open down to the muscle from the looks of things but that's not that bad. The inverted indigo glow along the edges of each slice and threaded through the flesh of the wound - and the fact the wound is only weeping, not spilling blood the way damage of that amount should...]

Looks like a slashing cut. Probably a pad and bandages to hold it in place. Disinfectant.

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[Lance really needs to stop getting himself in these types of situations. He's mad at himself. Their espionage mission into an old Galran ship that was seemingly abandoned had gone sour real quick when they realized it wasn't very abandoned at all, and a shoot-out wasn't exactly what Lance had planned on but it sure did end up being what they'd received in the end. Part of it was his fault, he admits; he had checked the perimeter to the best of his ability at the time, hadn't noticed the robeast snake of fifty laser pointers lurking around the side of the building until it was already aiming for them. And fighting them with only half the lions and no Voltron ended up being an even harder match.

It ends in victory, thankfully, but the following shouting match as they clear the area ends up with the blame game and all fingers pointed at Lance for not catching it. Lance's first reaction is to sneak away in anger to Blue's side, and he waits for the hanger to clear. Keith storms off still in full-suit to train away his frustrations, and Pidge decides to ignore them all in favor of the new items they collected for her to tinker with; Hunk ends up with her to sort through everything and to lug around the big stuff. Coran and Allura disappear to sort through the data and security footage. Lance assumes Shiro heads off with them, and he stays behind around his lion until he can't see any of the others; only then, when they're out of sight, does he come out of hiding, one hand pressed to his side despite a steady flow of red.

He'd been hit. Only on the side, and probably not too terribly, but he's been trying to soak up the steady bleeding with the undersuit since they'd booked it back to the castle. He's lucky Pidge hadn't noticed when he rode back on her lion, but he figures it's better that way. Lance doesn't need to worry the others. He'd just be getting in the way if did, from his headache of the 'morning' of their schedule to now. He can make it down to the med bay on his own, can probably patch himself up, too.

With a soft hiss, he wraps his other arm around his midsection so both hands can press against it. His steps are heavy and slow, but he keeps trucking forward. There's a soft grumble of Lance berating himself over being an idiot, but he speaks to himself in a whisper. It motivates him to keep moving, although he can feel himself slowing a little.]

Edited 2016-11-18 06:43 (UTC)

[That - could have gone better.

It could have gone a lot better.

It could have gone a lot worse.

It was a mess though and Shiro had done his best to mute the understandable anger that had happened once the fight or flight wore off and everyone needed to vent. He'd blame it on the fact his team is a bunch of teenagers - but he's pretty sure that would have gone down about the same with full grown adults too. He gives everyone their space afterward, helps out where he can to try to distract everyone and only beats himself up a little for not having checked the perimeter himself when he's the senior officer and the only one that had ever even finished training much less deal with hands on real life experience. He's pretty sure Lance feels like shit about it and he gives the younger paladin time to himself, figuring he might want to lick his proverbial wounds for a bit before Shiro approached him to make sure there was no lasting damage.

But - Black is prodding him. Little tugs at the fabric of his mind, laced with worry. The lions don't talk. They don't even communicate in words or fully formed ideas and it takes him a little bit to realize that - Black's tugging on him because of Blue. So, naturally, Shiro goes looking for Lance.

...and the second Shiro steps out into the hallway and sees Lance's lean form dragging forward in front of him, he knows why Blue was so insistent.]

Lance - [There's a blood trail. Light - but something inside Shiro, buried back in the dark parts of his memory where he can't touch it, raises a carnivore's head and knows that blood trails are deadly. He's at the other paladin's side in a moment, arm going out to catch at him and this close, he can smell the blood tang in the air. How did he miss that? How did they all miss that? Dammit!] Why didn't you say you were hurt?

[The wound smarts painfully under his hands, and Lance can feel the ship tilt uncomfortably under his feet. He hasn't been able to find a good sense of balance since they'd taken off, and even upon returning to the hangar, adrenaline is one of the few things keeping him on his feet. He's still buzzed with his own annoyance from the arguments that had continued, though he can feel the wound more, and it bothers him. It's worse than he'd given it initial credit for, but something still manageable. Probably. He hopes.

He doubts it'd matter if they had to replace him anyway, the annoying voice in the back of his mind plays off. But Lance keeps trucking forward, determined to take care of this on his own. It's only when he hears Shiro say his name that he jolts, though he can't turn himself around fast enough before Shiro's right within reach. He's ready to ask if he needs him for something, not sure if he's even capable of volunteering to help but still willing to try--when he realizes the older paladin's already narrowed on to the problem at hand. Lance doesn't want him to worry; he doesn't deserve it.]

When would I say it? Before or after everyone decided to rip me a new one? [Lance turns away, but takes a cautious step back, away from Shiro. He's unsteady on his feet, but willpower keeps him upright. Each step requires actually concentrating on the movement, and it's nothing short of terrible; walking is supposed to be easy, and he can't even get that right.]

It's not--[He pauses for a second as the wound throbs suddenly, takes a sharp breath, and tries again as he attempts to ignore it. The blood continues to drip through his fingers, and he tries to ignore it.] It's not that big a deal anyway. Just gonna... head down and get myself a bandaid. I'm fine.

Edited 2016-11-18 17:45 (UTC)

[Shiro's eyes narrow down when Lance lurches away and for a second there's dark fire there, something bottomless and endless and cold burning.

It's gone in the next blink and Shiro only looks concerned. And a little guilty. He should have stopped the bickering before it went as far as it did. He'd just been trying to hold about five other things together at the same time and - point was -

he reaches out and his move is so fast that it says something unfriendly about his time in Galra hands. The fingers close under Lance's elbow. It's a firm grip, one that lends a great deal of upright support and steadiness. It's also a grip that leaves the faintest warning hint that trying to break out of it would be a bad idea. But his voice is just as gentle and calm as always.]

Leaving a blood trail is going to need more than a bandaid. Come on. We'll see if we can do something that doesn't require you needing to spend the night in a pod.

[Lance can barely blink before seeing Shiro move to grab his arm. The fact that he wasn't able to follow Shiro's moves enough to even fend it off bothers him more than having to accept assistance. Normally, Lance doesn't mind help, especially if it's someone he can whine to even jokingly. But after that arguing mess down at the hangers, he wants to take care of himself alone, to lick his own wounds and berate himself for a spectacularly terrible job.

It's easier to be disappointed in yourself without anyone around to question it. Lance knows it's probably too late to argue it now though, especially with the grip holding him steady. Shiro doesn't seem willing to let go, and Lance honestly doesn't think he can fend him off unless he can bargain his way out of it. But how can one bargain their way out of a damn blood trail? He sighs, eyes glancing behind him. More stuff to clean for him... And his vision goes spotty for a second when he glances at it. He has to take a deeper breath before righting himself to reply.]

I'm not gonna need a pod, Shiro. It's not that bad.

[He tries to deflect, not just to keep Shiro from worrying but to keep himself from panicking. He has no idea how bad it is, but if it's been steady and bad enough to make him so light-headed and uncertain, he's lost too much blood already. Ignoring it, he starts walking forward again.]

[He's lost too much blood. And Shiro blames himself for that. He's squad leader. It's his job to make sure his team makes it back safely. All the way back. And he'd been so preoccupied with other things that he'd missed something as basic as a body check.

It's not a mistake he's going to let himself make a second time.

It's not as if Lance has left a smear behind him or anything but - blood trail. It thumps in the back of Shiro's mind like a second heartbeat. Even something as simple as a drop spatter is still a blood trail. Still enough to be tracked by. Hunted down and - ]

We'll make sure.

[There's the urge to just throw the other paladin over his shoulder and get them to the med area a lot faster than this but Shiro bites it down. He can feel the panic at the back of his brain - and he knows that a part of it is because his paladin, his friend, his charge, is bleeding

-and a part of that panic has nothing at all to do with that.]

I know you're pissed. But put your arm over my shoulders. We'll get you there faster.

I'm not gonna need a pod.

[It's a guarantee, or as much of one he can offer. Lance has enough fight in him that he'll fend off a healing pod until they drug him or he passes out. And seeing as he's stubborn, too stubborn, he figures he'll heal through this the hard way, even if they end up fighting Galran forces again.

With a small huff, he moves one hand away, trying to wipe it on the black part of his undersuit before bringing his hand around Shiro's shoulders. He balls his hand into a fist for good measure, despite blood having soaked all around his fingers; he doesn't want to stress him out. The wound seems to bleed a little more without that second hand applying pressure to Lance's dismay, so, biting his lip Lance pushes against it a little more in the hopes of having one shaky hand do the work. Time is not working in his favor.]

I'm not pissed, I'm just... [But the world spins strangely again, and his voice trails off. He stumbles on his foot for a second, but he catches himself and stubbornly stomps his foot forward. He's not backing down.]

I messed up. But it's... it's hard to just... I get it. I'll take care of myself, it's my own fault.

[He gets Lance a little more balanced once he gets Lance's arm over his shoulder and he wraps his hand around the other paladin's wrist there.

That's a lot of blood.

And Shiro reaches his other arm around the more slender man and lays his own hand over Lance's. Helping keep it steady, helping keep the pressure on.

From now on he's doing a personal inspection of every paladin every single time they so much as finish training.]

You don't pass out, no pod. [He agrees it, gives it as incentive too. Moves them forward as steady as he can without tangling Lance's feet together. It occurs to him to call Coran but he's not wearing his helmet anymore so it will have to wait until they're in the med bay.]

It's my fault. I didn't handle the whole situation well. I didn't count the perimeter as wide as I should have. And I should have been more aware of potential threats. You missed the monster, I missed the bigger picture that should have included the monster first.

Easy peasy.

[Shiro's grip is actually a little reassuring as he moves to support Lance. He'll fight off the growing sensation of feeling faint, determined to make it to the med bay. It takes more conscious thought and effort, but he keeps moving. It's a challenge, but it feels easier with Shiro at his side leading him forward. Lance tries not to rely on that too much, not because he doesn't trust him--but he feels like he should do this himself. He stays quiet and just listens, which is already strange for him.

Lance grunts at Shiro's words, and his balled fist tightens a little more. He hates when Shiro puts the blame on himself, especially if it's not something only he's in charge of. The entire mission was probably a mess from the moment they touched down, but he'd be damned if he let their leader fault himself solely on the basis of being their assigned group leader. His head moves to drop against Shiro's shoulder. Of course, Lance knows he's no different, but at least he feels more justified in this case.]

That's dumb. You made it wide, I didn't notice it. You can't just... always blame yourself if someone else messes up. Not fair to you.... even as the head. The monster... it was kind of camouflaged anyway, around the base.

[Shiro isn't happy with the silence. And he's really not happy with how far away everything in this ship is. He understands it once housed hundreds if not thousands but you'd think the ship designer would have put the med bay closer to the god damned docking bay.]

I'm willing to put the blame game aside for now if you will too. [His head turns, a little more worried at Lance's head on his shoulder even if it does in a strange way make him feel better too. They turn a corner and at least he can spot the door they're aiming for from there.]

How about we blame the monster for now and agree on that? That thing had too many fingers and teeth.

[There's a soft grumble. Lance wants to tell Shiro to not play dirty, but if it gets him to stop blaming himself, then he'll accept it. Begrudgingly.] Fine... [But then he falls silent again, a little annoyed that walking requires so much focus. He's bothered by the scent of blood that doesn't seem to leave, and how lightheaded he feels, strong enough to just keep his head against Shiro's shoulder.

This castle is too big and that in itself is also annoying. It's a relief when they see the door pop into view. They're almost there.]

And laser eyes. I'm... so sick of these stupid monsters. So... so big and stupid and sneaky... and stupid... [He huffs again.] Almost there... I wanna sit, I'm kinda feelin' it a little.

[Shiro, if asked, would point out that fighting dirty just means you prioritize winning. Which he does. Though - that's a conversation for another day and maybe for another time when 'fighting and winning' don't automatically, on a gut deep level include 'losing and dying' as the only other option. At the moment though he'll take Lance not blaming himself outright.

The door really is too far away. His hand increases the pressure against Lance's and over his side.]

We need to put in a petition. No more laser eyes. Take it up with monster makers. Try to get some vari- its not far. I can carry you the rest of the way and we'll call it even. All right?