Lotor POV
"I'm afraid so, princess," he said, a kind of mock disappointment on his face, though he was smiling on the inside at both her reaction and the news itself. Having to initiate the ball by dancing with Allura? Wonderful. "And each pair is required to share quarters during the week that we're there."
"S-Share . . . quarters?" she asked, her voice wobbly. She shook her head. Lotor bit his lip, pretending to be horrified by this information as well. He crossed his arms and tied up his hair. It seemed like she noticed, but he couldn't really tell. She was already red.
"I'm sorry, Allura, but that's just the way things are," he said, shrugging and crossing his arms, again. "That's the only way we can get the Aiereians to join the coalition." Allura nods as if she understands, though still shaken by the whole sharing quarters thing.
"I—I know that, Lotor," she gulps, "but do we absolutely have to?" She looks pleadingly at Lotor. "Please tell me that there's more than one bed."
"I hope so," he said, genuinely meaning it. He didn't want anything embarrassing to happen. "If not, I can sleep on the fl—"
"No! No, I'm not going to let you sleep on the floor," she said, looking even more terrified at the thought than how she did of sharing a bed. "I couldn't do that to you." She glares at the floor, swaying on her feet. He rolls his eyes.
"Who's going to sleep on the floor, then?" he questions, throwing one of his hands half-way into the air. "Who, then, if it's not me?"
"Me," she said, as what he had asked was a stupid question. "Who else, Lotor?" He sighs, wiping his eyes with the hand that was previously in the air.
"Me," he said. "I can't let you sleep on the floor either."
"You're going to have to." She turns around furiously and taps her back. "Is this on right?"
"I'm going to ignore you," he mimics, stepping closer and adjusting her crooked armor quickly but smoothly. "You're a princess!" He carefully aligns any other misplaced pieces, even straightening her hair. "You can't just be treated like that."
Allura POV
She could feel Lotor adjusting things properly and fixing her knotted hair. She was blushing hard, her back tingling at the touch. She was . . . goodness . . . relishing it?
"Well, you're a prince," she bickered back. "You deserve respect. Sleeping on a floor is the opposite of respect!"
"Oh, please," he snorted. "I'm Galra. I've killed. Sleeping on the floor is what I deserve." He finishes, stepping back. She whipped around and stared him in shock.
"Do you really think of yourself that way?" she asked, almost accusingly. "That you deserve such horrid treatment?" She steps closer and comes close to his face. "Why?"
"Because it's true, Allura," he says, turning around and leaving. "It's always been true." He storms out the door. How could one little fight have made him so angry?