[ it probably says something about shiro as leader that in all this time, he hasn’t thought much at all about lance ( or angel for that matter ). even his attempted diversion by telling that cursed being that keith doesn’t have what she’s looking for, carries an implied look elsewhere. meaning? lance or angel. it’s not that shiro doesn’t care. it’s that he plays favorites. it’s unbecoming of a leader, he supposes, but realistic in nature. it’s an impossibility to remain impartial; to remain completely detached from one’s own feelings. shiro tries, of course. he wants to even the playing field and be there in equal amounts to everyone on the team. but the ugly truth of the matter, is that if it comes down to it, keith will always edge out the others.

when was the last time he checked in on lance, pidge, hunk anyway? they certainly don’t operate as a team here. perhaps they aren’t shiro’s responsibility any longer.

there on the floor, shiro watches the space wolf fawn over his sole responsibility and feels oddly inadequate in the moment. he’s failing a lot of people right now, isn’t he? refusing to sit there and wallow in his own shortcomings, shiro pushes himself to his feet instead. shirt or tablet first? the fact that he’s still thinking to delay, even a few seconds, from sending lance a text is another mark against him.

tablet there on the counter, shiro stops before it and starts tapping away with metal fingers. hopefully lance isn’t also suffering from an inability to touch without suffering a burn. ]

And I can’t be expected to sit by while this thing hunts you down.

[ the retort comes easy. shiro doesn’t even look up. text sent, one asking a generalized status report, shiro looks over to keith then, mouth half-tilted and worn. ]

You know I’ll never agree to that, best save your breath.