It was only two quintants later when a cruel realization dawned on the Paladins. Between their daily training and their encounters with the Galra at the most inconvenient times, the time frame to work on their formal wears has been limited. The lounge looked like a battlefield for tailors when Pidge decided to pay a visit while the others were away for a break. Rolls and cut-outs of different-colored fabrics and tangled threads were scattered all around. Pidge has to be careful not to step on the occasional pin cushion and put away a pair of scissors haphazardly placed aside back on the table.

At one side of the sofa, Allura's childhood clothes were piled up. Some of them were missing some parts. She could barely see the sewing machine in the mountain of fabric which she assumed must be parts for their outfits. None of them seemed halfway done and alarms blared in her head at the condition of what she supposed to be Allura's dress. She gently tugged it from under the pile and her eyebrows knitted themselves as she surveyed everything. She wouldn't even consider it befitting a princess, much less call it a dress. She placed it back among the boys' handiwork and looked at the minefield before her.

"Chu!"

She turned and lowered her gaze to the mice standing on the floor beside her. They scampered up and settled down on her shoulders. Their tiny noses twitching in curiosity. "Hey there." She gave them an apologetic smile as she raised a part of Allura's fabric for them to see. "They're a bunch of terrible designers and tailors, aren't they?"

Chuchule scuttled on her hand and sniffed at the fabric. "Chu!"

She sighed. "I would like to help, but I just…can't." She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. "I made a promise. I made a promise not to wear any dress, not until I find my father and my brother. Anything that is Katie Holt, I kept it under lock and key. I only left what is necessary. Her motivations, her knowledge, her determination, everything crucial that makes Pidge Gunderson."

Pidge let out a hollow laugh. "A dress doesn't exactly fit that description though." She looked down sorrowfully on the bunched fabric in her hand. "I…I missed sewing, you know. It's one of the few things I don't get bullied for. My mom and I may not always agree with each other, but sewing is one of the things we enjoyed doing together. She taught me the basics and did the sketches. I'm not much of an artist as she is, but between the two of us, mine's the better result in the end."

She pursed her lips. "I wished we could it again. I wished I could see my family again so, I can make and wear the clothes that I want."

"Chu…" Chulatt rubbed his cheek affectionately on hers. Pidge smiled sadly at him and mouthed her thanks. She barely noticed the other three mice climbing off her and scurrying toward the mannequins standing on one side of the lounge.

"Chu!" Platt squeaked and motioned under one of the mannequins. It was covered in green fabric pinned at the sides which Pidge assumed to be the curves. It was smaller than the others and definitely feminine, with surprisingly more progress than the others. A sneaking suspicion made her hesitant as she walked toward it.

Plachu and Chuchule were standing on one of its shoulders and were offering her a notepad. She gingerly took it and she felt her throat constricted with emotions. It was mostly Lance's handiwork with side notes contributed by the others. It was a sketch of a dress. A large PIDGE'S DRESS was written in an impressive calligraphy above. Her palm tried to muffle the gasp that escaped her mouth. Despite the blur in her eyesight, she could make out the wet splotches painting the inside of her glasses and the lower part of the paper. She took off her glasses and wiped the tears spilling on her cheeks with her free sleeve.

"Goddamit, you guys!" A choked laughter on her throat. "Geez! Didn't Allura give you the memo?" She must have looked terrible right now and she hoped that none of her friends would come in. She felt an absolutely shit; her tears stubbornly refused to stop and broken sobs bouncing off the walls. The mice comforted her and waited patiently as she placed the notepad on the ground and scooped them in on trembling hands.

How come she didn't notice it before?

Pidge sniffed and coughed until she found her voice. "T…Thank you…" Her voice was garbled but the mice heeded no mind.

"Chu!"

"You're right. All…all of you are right." She smiled softly. "They're family too. Lance, Hunk, Keith, Shiro, Allura, and Coran. Even the four of you are family." The mice perked up and rubbed on her cheeks affectionately. Pidge wiped the last of her tears and nodded at the mess of a room. Determination lighting anew in her eyes. "They're family and I want only the best for them." She looked at the mice, hoping they will understand what she wanted to do. "Someone has to clean up their mess or else, they will embarrass themselves. Will you help me?"

The mice squeaked enthusiastically and listened carefully to her plan.

"Stupid mice!" Lance grumbled as he stomped his way toward the lounge. He has been searching for the mice for the last varga for stealing a pin cushion and a half roll of deep blue fabric that he was supposed to use. He already looked into the possible hiding places that the mice might have squeezed themselves to as per Allura's suggestions. Even the Princess failed to get ahold of the mice as they scampered off to some corner of the castleship.

Their sewing supplies have been mysteriously disappearing for three quintants now and nobody has seen the culprit (or culprits) until now. Even the excess from cut-outs didn't escape the same fate. They thought of buying more, but their hands have been tied for the past days because of the onslaught of distress signals from nearby planets. They only have less than a week to finish up their attires, but Pidge was less than cooperative to them than usual and now the mice were stealing their stuff.

A familiar yell came from the lounge and the doors yawned opened as blue, pink, yellow scuttled past his feet and an angry Keith following right behind. Lance swore he's going to quiznaking lose his mind. Why did he accept this role again?

"You all looked like shit."

For the first time in eleven quintants, all of them were gathered in the lounge. It was already past two o' clock in Earth morning (according to Pidge) and all of them decided to screw sleep and make further progress with their attires. Pidge was seated on the small flight of stairs, nursing a cup of hot coffee as she watched them worked. When she entered the lounge and saw them gathered in there, she almost had a mini heart attack. She thought that Shiro was going to seize the opportunity to lecture her, but he decided to postpone it and resumed his work.

"Gee, thanks Pidge." Lance grumbled as he slotted the end of a white thread through the eye of the needle. "We're feeling the love here."

Pidge raised an eyebrow at the grumpy Cuban but said nothing. They're all committed to their work despite the obvious lack of sleep in their eyes. Heck, even Shiro didn't call her out to her use of a vulgar word. Maybe he's just piling it up with her postponed lecture. Her attention shifted to Hunk who yelped and was nursing his pricked finger. "Try using a thimble, Hunk. I think I saw one in that sewing kit on the table."

Hunk blinked at her as her words processed slowly in his exhausted state. "Oh, thanks Pidge." He reached for the sewing kit on the table and picked out a yellow thimble before resuming work.

"No problem."

She sipped her coffee as she lifted her laptop on her lap. Her eyes subtly darting behind Coran where the mice were waiting for a signal. Their eyes already locked on the prize – an unused, folded, white fabric before the Altean. Slumping down toward the screen as she waited Coran to reach for a new spool of thread, she tapped three keys in quick succession when he did so, and what followed was a moment of utter shock, the sound of the doors sliding open, and the yelling.

Pidge simply sipped her coffee through all of it with a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes.