There was a bomb. Lance remembered that part. They were at a diplomatic function, again, some more. But this time the king or the president or whatever of this planet wasn’t popular. And someone set a bomb.
Pidge spotted it, with her clever little scanners and sweepers. They were all in armor without helmets, small earpieces to be as normal-looking as possible, playing security for the Princess as she worked the center of the room. Then suddenly Pidge was screaming in their ears. Bomb, there’s a bomb, get out get out get out.
Hunk, bless him, asked where it was. He wanted to find it, disarm it. Pidge gave a location, side of the ballroom, parallel to the main entrance, but insisted that there was no time. Get out get out get out. Keith was running around the perimeter, herding everyone toward the doors, Hunk was picking up elderly party-goers by the armful and carrying them out. Shiro was a heroic presence as always, guiding everyone in the right direction with a firm, commanding voice that you only had to hear to obey.
Lance fell behind. It wasn’t on purpose. He was listening, honest. But there was a kid, some dignitary’s daughter. She got cut off from her parent, was too young to handle it, stood by the wall beginning to heave and sob, unable to move. And Lance went for her, because what else was he supposed to do? She was too close to where Pidge said the bomb was.