There was something weird about patrolling on the outskirts of Red’s territory. It gave him an eerie vibe, like someone was watching him. It gave him a bit of a headache, which was also annoying. But, as usual, he carried no emotion on his face, no trace of discomfort. He was a soldier, the champion, and he had to come off as such in front of his soldiers, in front of the people that resided in the Red faction. He was a soldier of Ferid; nothing more. Quick footsteps approached and Shiro turned his head to the sound, raising his right arm in preparation; they were on the outskirts, meaning it wouldn’t be uncommon from an enemy attack from Black. But it wasn’t a Black soldier…nor was it any soldier. The smell of freshly baked bread and a way too exuberant smile made his pounding headache even worse. Shiro did not know this person, though his name was spoken in such a familiar fashion. He did not understand the brightness in his face; it made his blood boil. But before the boy could reach him, his squadron stepped in front of him protecting Shiro. “Go back to your residence, civilian lest you want to become a sacrifice for my right arm; it’s been aching for blood lately.”
Lance’s smile faltered the instant other soldiers stepped in front of him. Was this-- was this a--
“ Sh-Shiro, dude, you were never good a jokes! Why do you have your posse on me, they’re freakin’ me out! “
That bad feeling was back again. Twisting in his gut, pulling at his chest. The way that Shiro’s frown didn’t twitch like it usually did when he was trying to joke, and the fact that... those other soldiers seemed to be in no part of a joke made his stomach drop.. Lance’s mind was already predicting the worse.
(It could also be how cold ‘civilian’ sounded. Lance didn’t hear the threat. He heard the detachment. He felt his heart ache.)
Laugh turning weak, worried, Lance took one more step closer. Not looking at the other soldiers. Looking at Shiro, in the eyes. His voice got soft and terrified--
“ You’re freaking me out. “
