Do Not Feed After Midnight

[pidge_out]

Who: Pidge and ALL OF YOU
Broadcast: Accidentally YES
Action: Yesssss
When: Right Now!

[Video Broadcast]
[The feed is shaky. For a split second this might be concerning, but then there are some snorting giggles while the image comes into focus and reveals... a whiteboard. It's covered in scribbles and notes and papers and magnets and string, and most of the handwriting is fairly neat. If your attention stays on that neater handwriting, you might realize that the things on the board are trying to piece clues together. If you know him, you might even recognize this as being the board in Keith's room on the Huntress.

That's not why the feed is on, though.

Written into the margins of every bit of space not occupied by this apparent search are questions, written in large, bold, black letters that at times go over what was already written. And these questions are not... particularly scholarly. They're mostly things like--

"Do aliens have sex?" "What is Hunk's headband hiding?" "Lance doesn't actually know spanish, Change My Mind" "Who cut Shiro's hair anyway?" "Shut up Lance let me write my Shhit" "Aliens = Birds?" "why does Coran moustAche"]

Okay, look! [Pidge is not at all trying to hold back any laughter. In fact, Pidge seems pretty damn pleased with the scrawled, awful musings that have been left there. Though it does kind of sound like she's not quite talking to the community over the comm. It sounds like Pidge is talking to someone in the same room as her.] Someone's gotta ask the hard questions and I'm the brain here so it's gonna be me, duhhhhh.

[Tap. Tap. It sounds like Pidge is hitting the side of her comm. Because obviously she's just trying to take a picture of her own brilliance.] Nnnthefuck, why's it not working...

[Action: the Huntress]
[So it turns out that Lance gave Pidge some Drinks and then brought her back to his shared room to make sure she didn't trip all over herself while returning to the Bishop...]

Comments

[tempredmental]

[At first, Keith couldn't help but notice he seemed to have been glued in place by Pidge. Okay, then...

But then this... nope. This wasn't going to fly.]

I think the both of you need to sober up. Lance, you are not going to pool while you're drunk. [Keith didn't trust Lance to swim while he was under the influence, no matter how good he was, even if he was still glitched to be a merman.]

[pidge_out]

[Is something happening? Is Lance trying to leave?

Nope, Pidge is hooking one arm around Lance's leg, too. Now she's got them both secured in place.

While she mumbles something in a sort of sing-song tone under her breath. It kind of sounds like-] One drink, two drinks, mmmmaybe five drinks, what's a shot, gonna sip some aaalien juice~

[the_tailor]

[Pidge nooooo. He tries to pull his leg out from her grasp.]

I'm sure you don't wanna see me right now, though. It'd make you happier.

[Yep. Drunk drama queen, this one.]

[tempredmental]

[Keith narrowed his eyes a bit, trying really hard to sort of ignore Pidge at the moment. They could deal with her in a minute. Lance was a slightly more immediate problem. Keith reached out and grabbed Lance this time.]

And why do you think that? What about anything that's going on here is going to make me happier?

[Yes, he was annoyed, but he also really didn't want Lance going to the pool. Really.]

Besides, you need to help with Pidge.

[pidge_out]

[Oh hey, that's her name! Pidge blinks up at them, beams, then hiccups.]

More space juice?

[the_tailor]

No more space juice, Pidge.

[He's still sulking.]

And you're angry at me, so not seeing me would make you happier, Keith.

[tempredmental]

Definitely no more space juice, Pidge.

[Keith sighed.]

And, Lance, no more space juice for you, either. You're not thinking clearly. Do you even know why I'm annoyed right now?

[pidge_out]

[Pidge tugs their legs closer together, even while she scowls down at her feet, pouting a little. The space juice was good, dammit.]

But it's my birthday.

[the_tailor]

You're annoyed because we scribbled a lot of stuff on your board without asking. And it wasn't the stuff I usually leave.

[He's still sulking, trying to pull his leg out of Pidge's grasp.]

[tempredmental]

[Keith sighed, and then pointed back into his room.]

Look... just-... both of you... go lie down or something until you sober up.

And no markers.