Neglect
Allura moodily stirred her fruit juice cocktail.
The night had general characteristics of a good time—it was party, thrown for no better reason than that the Voltron Force deserved a party every now and then. There was a bar (not that Allura was allowed to drink without Romelle as chaperone), buffet, dance floor, and some nice romantic balconies.
Allura kept stirring the cocktail, watching the ice melt, as she surveyed the party. Her friends fairly followed a script—
Hunk always found company at the buffet, or managed to find just the right person to introduce him to the chef (chefs being a very specific meat-cleaver wielding species whose only weakness appears to be earnest flattery). Pidge could usually find some interesting people to talk to, or a senator's cute daughter, or some scrappy urchins to hang out with for the evening. Keith would stand around and talk idealistic politics with those in the know (By now Allura could almost quote his little spiel by heart). With Lance… it depended on his mood. He might show off, pick a fight, disappear for the servants' party (which he'd taken Allura to once, and it had been wonderful fun), play cards, or if there was a great enough population of young women (like there was tonight) and the music was lively enough, he'd dance.
And me? Allura asked sullenly. I sit and wait because no one talks politics to a mere princess, and no one asks someone as intimidating as a princess to dance.
"Alone on such a beautiful evening, your Highness?" a debonair young man in some sort of military dress uniform asked, offering a glass of punch.
Allura accepted the cup. "Alone? No, it's quite a party."
The young man laughed carelessly. "Yet here you stand, the only member of the Voltron force without a partner." Allura looked to the dance floor. A general was scowling as Lance slow-danced with his daughter. Pidge was twirling a girl a full head taller than him while nearby Hunk dipped a pretty young chef. Keith appeared to be making small talk as he danced with a duchess.
"If I may be so bold—" the young man said, meeting her eyes.
"It's best if you're not," Allura answered, her eyes wandering back to Keith. The duchess laughed and Allura lifted the punch to her lips.
"I've never been good at leaving well enough alone," he answered, in what she supposed was meant to be a joke. Allura decided to treat it as such.
"I have a stalker who has that problem," she commented lightly. "Maybe you've heard of him?"
The military man laughed. "Ah, yes… I don't believe my faults are that advanced. I merely wished to express what a crime neglect was."
"Neglect?"
"The crime of leaving a beautiful young woman alone on a beautiful night. Would you care to dance? To soothe my conscience that there is no unseemly neglect happening on my watch?"
Allura set her punch aside. "I suppose."
Words count minus notes: 500
A/N: This was originally supposed to be some jerk hitting on Allura at the bar, and Keith calling her away for some surprise attack… but I like this better… and that one would have taken too many words. And if his dense skull wouldn't cause Allura to give up, his neglect would. Tsk tsk.