Tablecloth that was most certainly just a oddly smooth towel, candles made of some sort of alien substance, the finest cutlery and place setting that bare necessities could provide, and a helping of food-goo with the occasional sprinkle of something or other on top of the semi-gelatinous surface. Clearly, he'd commissioned the help of Hunk to prepare the food-goo as nicely as it could be prepared. Amorphous green semi-solid slurry could only achieve so far in the realm of looking appetizing, even if there was no doubt that the taste would be tolerable if not objectively good.

It had all come to a head, it seemed, weeks of Lance sleuthing around whenever the castle ship landed for a pit-stop or celebration. He'd always liked to sniff around the alien market stalls, but recently he'd seemed much more protective of it, a lot of chest-beating and deflecting whenever he was questioned or caught fishing for local currencies. All those seemingly random items had culminated to make a lovely—for the circumstances—candle-lit dinner in the castle's dining room.

"For you."

He gestured, pulling one of the chairs out to offer you a seat at the table. The lights had been dimmed as low as the ever-present bright blue glow of Altean technology would allow. He'd drawn you here with the proposal to be his Valentine. How he even knew it was Valentine's day on Earth was impressive enough by itself given the lack of day-night cycle in the vacuum of space. He seemed to sense your question as it came to mind, leaning on his arm with all the cocky pride that floated in the air around him.

"Internal clock, a romantic wouldn't miss it."

He gestured to the seat with a sway of his free arm.