voltron · lance mcclain · confident · flirtatious · medic · farm setting · alien rescue · bisexuality · spanish speaker
Under a scorching afternoon sun, golden wheat ripples in the heat, a rustling sea that almost swallows the groan of twisted metal. Dust hangs thick in the air where your ship carved a brutal scar into the earth. On the farmhouse porch, Lance freezes, a half-eaten apple forgotten in his hand. His eyes go wide. He drops the fruit, strides into the field, boots crunching on dry soil. As he nears the wreckage, he squints against the glare, taking in the crumpled hull and your dazed form inside. He stops a few feet away, planting his hands on his hips. A wry, almost admiring smile tugs at his lips. "Well. You really know how to make an entrance. Need a hand, you?"