Chapter Twenty-One
The bar in Altaire City was alive and bustling. The sun had dipped below the surface of the planet, and nightlife rapidly took over Arus. Almost every round bar table was occupied past the regular limit. The sound of conversation and laughter rose and fell like waves of an ocean. Glasses clinked together in celebration and as a cleaning act. Busy busboys and bartenders circled a worn path in the tavern like a choreographed dance. Music blared through the building, attempting to drown out nonsensical noise.
Lance had his hand curved gently around a frosted mug of ale. He and Sven engaged in mindless chatter, mostly about flight patterns and combat strategy. More than once, a group of immature twenty-one year old girls recognized Lance and encircled him like flies to a bowl of fruit. Rolling his eyes, Sven obliged and took their picture with Lance before the girls went giggling out of the bar to, no doubt, find another drinking hole.
"I bet you enjoy that stardom," Sven assessed once they were alone.
Lance paused for a moment. "You know, Sven," he started. "I used to live for that attention. Any girl that showed interest was enough for me."
"And now?"
A heavy sigh escaped Lance's lips. "Now, the war is over. I've been tired. I've been alone. The team doesn't do much together anymore. I don't have to jump up out of bed in the middle of the night to defend the planet. Keith and the princess are gettin' hitched…" his voice trailed off.
"Sounds like someone wants to grow up a bit," Sven finished for him. "You know, Lance, settling down with one girl does have its benefits. I've never felt so alive as I do now with Romelle."
Lance rolled his eyes and drank from his mug. "I've had my fill of mushy shit recently, Sven. I'm not looking to marry myself off. Black doesn't like me. I have my racing, but….well I guess I need a new challenge."
At that precise moment, Lance's eyes were drawn to the main door of the tavern. Light from a street lamp poured in around a familiar, curved figure standing in the opening. Lance blinked to adjust his eyes. His vision came in to focus on the crimson lips and auburn hair that reflected the bar's dim illumination. Lance found himself lost in an intense stare, appreciating the physical appearance of the tavern's newest patron.
"Um, hello! Lance!" Sven waved a hand in front of his face. Seeing no change, Sven followed his gaze to the form of Danny Wylde. She was wearing a pale red top and black pants. The combat boots that dressed her feet added an edge to her attire, indicating that the woman cared not for others' judgments or opinions. Around her shoulders was an aged black leather jacket adorned with various buckles that nipped in around her waist.
Sven turned back to Lance, who seemed completely enthralled. A smirk played across Sven's face. He reached out and gave Lance's shoulder a hard pat. "Go talk to her."
The contact clearly startled Lance. He flinched in reaction, allowing some of his ale to slosh over the side of his mug. Sven chuckled hearing Lance mumble a curse word. He grabbed a handful of napkins to mop up the mess.
"Hey there," a soothing voice washed over Lance from behind him. He froze. Of course she had to notice him after he had made a fool of himself. He slowly turned on his barstool to face her.
"I do hope I'm not interrupting," she said as she tucked a rogue curl back behind her ear.
Lance glanced over at Sven and quickly tidied up his mess. "No, um, not at all. It's Danny right?" Lance was trying desperately to sound nonchalant and knew he was failing miserably. He quickly searched for a place to stuff the wet wad of napkins. He stealthily slid them into a nearby empty glass.
Danny couldn't help but let one corner of her lips curve upward in a half smile. "Of course," she answered. She shifted her vision to Sven. "You must be the legendary Sven from Pollux."
Sven gave her a nod and held his mug up toward her in greeting. "Yes, I am Sven. Nice to meet you, Danny. I heard you gave my friend here a great race."
Danny grinned devilishly. "He hasn't seen a great race yet."
"Oh really?" Lance raised an eyebrow at the challenge. "You into guys that speed for the finish line or something?" Again, he immediately regretted the words that passed through his lips. Wincing, he knew there was no way to get out of it. Danny seemed slightly taken aback by the comment, but rebounded quickly.
"Actually I've never met a guy that could beat ME to the finish line," she quipped, folding her arms over her chest. Sven choked on his ale mid-sip. Lance was stunned. Hook, line and sinker, she thought to herself. "So, Lance, are you gonna buy me a drink or not?" She slid onto the bar stool next to him.
"Gee I guess I don't have a choice…" Lance motioned gave a nod to the bartender and shortly after a frosted mug appeared before Danny. "So, you're planning on taking my title, huh?" Lance continued.
Danny took a long drink from her mug, leaving it half full. Sven and Lance shared an impressed glance. "I don't think there's much planning that needs to be done," she grinned at him.
"Ouch," Lance muttered, taking a long drink.
Danny nudged him with her elbow. "I'm just giving you a hard time, Lance. Like attracts like, you know." She gave him a sweet smile before downing the rest of her drink.
Lance felt a tightness in the pit of his stomach. 'Attracts.' Most definitely… He thought to himself. He gave her the infamous smirk-smile. "So besides racing, what else do you do?"
"Well," Danny looked up at the ceiling, searching for an answer. "Hmm…nothing really I guess." She smiled at him. "At least nothing in comparison to what you do."
Lance shrugged. "Since the war ended we don't get up in the air as much as I'd like. That's why I took up racing."
"So was that you in the Black Lion today?"
Lance immediately blushed and stared into the amber liquid in his mug. Danny knew she hit a soft spot. "Because that was a pretty ballsy move, killing the engines like that…" She smoothed it over with ease. Lance looked up into her dark eyes. They were like two pools made of liquid onyx. He began to lose himself in those eyes. A soft cough from Sven jostled him back to reality.
"I, um, better go check on the horses," Sven said and promptly left the two alone. An awkward silence hung over the two at the bar.
"So, you were watching the lions?" Lance really didn't care to talk about that practice, but it was the only subject matter he could cling to, and he knew his pride couldn't afford to be caught staring again. He proceeded to empty his mug.
"Yes, actually Black Lion and I got pretty close. I almost became a hood ornament for him." She waved the empty mugs towards the bartender who promptly replaced it with fresh ones.
Lance glanced up at her, a sorrowful expression on his face. "Aw man, you mean when Black almost crashed?" Danny answered with a nod as she drank from her mug.
Lance felt the frustration begin to build inside. He ran a hand through his hair, resisting the urge to clench his fingers. "I guess I owe you an apology for that one."
"Are you kidding?" Danny grinned at him. "That thrill was comparable to racing! I loved being that close to the lions! Honestly I don't see how you can stand it…"
Lance looked over at her. His frustration was put off by a swell of pride. "You like the lions that much huh?"
Danny traced absent-minded circles in the frost of her mug as she began to reminisce. "A few years back, when Haggar sent that red rain, the lions came to my town to help. Blue Lion and Princess Allura made sure my family got out." She paused thoughtfully. "Of course Red and Black were up in the sky trying to put out the fires. I saw Red Lion and couldn't help but be in awe of it."
A wide grin appeared on Lance's face. "Yeah, Big Red is a little eye-catching. No clue where she gets that from…" He smoothed the front of his shirt down to emphasize his coolness. Danny couldn't help but let a giggle escape her lips.
"Probably from flying close to Black Lion all those years," she quipped.
"Ouch, that stings." Lance flung a hand over his heart, throwing his head back, pretending to be in mortal pain. "I get razzed enough with Keith getting married to the princess, I don't need to be told his lion is better than mine."
"Aw, someone jealous?" Danny teased.
Lance was silent for a moment, thinking carefully. "Maybe I WAS, up until about…" he checked his watch. "…fifteen minutes ago?" He gave her a genuine smile of admiration. Danny instantly blushed at the clever flirt. For once, a man had rendered her speechless.
"Say," Lance continued. "If you get a thrill just from being CLOSE to the lions, you probably wouldn't be able to handle riding in one, right?" He coyly smirked at her. Danny's dark eyes went wide.
"Is that an invitation?" She responded cautiously.
"Sure. I've been training hard on Black recently, it'd be nice to go back to Big Red for a bit." Lance nudged her hand with his. "I wouldn't mind having some company."
Danny felt her pulse jump at the light contact. Despite everything her mind told her, her heart wanted to see Lance again, off the race track. "Are you asking me out on a date?"
"Uh," Lance stammered. "Flying around in a lion isn't my normal idea for a date…" He watched as the hopeful expression in her eyes vanished. "…but I don't exactly consider you a 'normal' girl. So yeah, I'm asking you out on a date." Lance grinned at her.
"Hmm, so you're asking me out on a date by telling me I'm weird," Danny pondered over the idea. Lance winced.
Real smooth, you ass. He thought to himself. "Um…"
"Hell, that works. Never considered myself to be a 'normal' girl either." She grinned at him. Danny felt she found a new hobby: finding any way to make Lance squirm.
"Great, nice to see a bit of what I'm getting myself into," Lance muttered as he took a long drink from his mug.
"Hey, we're just going on a date. You won't be 'getting into' anything anytime soon," she jabbed. Lance's eyes bugged widely and he nearly spit out his ale. Danny laughed aloud. She gave his shoulder a squeeze. "0900, tomorrow morning, k?" She stood from the barstool, downed her ale, and gave him a smile. "See you then, Lance McClain."
Lance managed to swallow his ale. He quickly stood and smiled a goodbye to her, allowing his eyes to roam over her form as she walked away. She passed Sven stepping in the door as she was leaving. She leaned in and whispered something to him, glancing back at Lance and grinning before she left. Sven looked up at Lance and raised an eyebrow. He made his way over to him and rejoined his friend at the bar.
"Um, she said to mention that it may be a good idea not to be drinking anything tomorrow morning because you might spill on your pants again?" Sven told him. Lance immediately looked down at his pants and saw that a large wet spot had formed directly over his crotch. He had spilled his drink after that last comment and hadn't even noticed, he had been so enthralled with her. Sven grinned as for the second time that night, Lance swore under his breath and reached for the napkins.