[When a mention of being social comes up, no one ever needs to worry about Lance saying no. The answer is yes, always yes, because while he never needs an excuse to be fashionably extra, it's always nice to actually have a valid one. With lending Pidge one of his suits (which looks adorably oversized on her, bless her rolled up pants' legs), Lance decides to take her lead and drop his usual blue for an outfit with a hue more akin to his wife's. His slacks are a mint green, paired with a pale colored shirt that has a good three buttons undone for Reasons, brown Oxford shoes, and to top it all off, a cream-colored blazer hanging along his shoulders. No socks because the beach is still right outside their front door and his hair is slicked back with a touch too much gel to be healthy. He looks like an absolute twat, but who expects anything less from Lance?
The pernil is nowhere near like his abuela's recipe, but Lance thinks he did an okay enough job, what with no one knowing exactly what makes up for pork in this place and he's not digging into that question. Ignorance, bliss, etc. Everything else he's contributed is swell by him and he starts putting together two plates--one for him and one for Pidge--piling a bit too much food on them. It's clear he's trying to make to-go plates for a party held in his own house because if there's anything Lance knows from living with a football team of people back home, it's that partygoers will clean them out and then there'll be nothing left to nibble on during late night video gaming sessions.
Afterwards, he and Blue, Shiro's Gallade and Lance's protege, make their way over to that extremely blue punch, Jean-Clawed Van Damme the Aloan Meowth tucked under Lance's arm with Blue holding a large thermos that shows no hints of what's inside but still looks damn suspicious. A trainer with a cat and someone else's Pokemon standing like a bunch of hooligans at the punch bowl? Clearly they're up to no good and it's best that somebody with more sense in their pinky than all the trio put together stops them.
In any case, tonight is a night for this social butterfly to flutter around the room chatting up strangers, peacocking with his fellow peacock bros Shadowmaru and Jaskier, checking in with Pidge to make sure she isn't having a mental breakdown from being too social, and occasionally narrowing his eyes at a certain full-blooded Galra and his boyfriend because trust? Lance don't know her. ]
» ota
The pernil is nowhere near like his abuela's recipe, but Lance thinks he did an okay enough job, what with no one knowing exactly what makes up for pork in this place and he's not digging into that question. Ignorance, bliss, etc. Everything else he's contributed is swell by him and he starts putting together two plates--one for him and one for Pidge--piling a bit too much food on them. It's clear he's trying to make to-go plates for a party held in his own house because if there's anything Lance knows from living with a football team of people back home, it's that partygoers will clean them out and then there'll be nothing left to nibble on during late night video gaming sessions.
Afterwards, he and Blue, Shiro's Gallade and Lance's protege, make their way over to that extremely blue punch, Jean-Clawed Van Damme the Aloan Meowth tucked under Lance's arm with Blue holding a large thermos that shows no hints of what's inside but still looks damn suspicious. A trainer with a cat and someone else's Pokemon standing like a bunch of hooligans at the punch bowl? Clearly they're up to no good and it's best that somebody with more sense in their pinky than all the trio put together stops them.
In any case, tonight is a night for this social butterfly to flutter around the room chatting up strangers, peacocking with his fellow peacock bros Shadowmaru and Jaskier, checking in with Pidge to make sure she isn't having a mental breakdown from being too social, and occasionally narrowing his eyes at a certain full-blooded Galra and his boyfriend because trust? Lance don't know her. ]