"You wake up to the sound of chaos."

Not explosions. Not alarms. Just Lance yelling.

Lance: "I swear, if someone ate the last goo-bun again—!"

You blink groggily, groan, and sit up in your bunk aboard the Castle of Lions. The soft hum of Altean tech greets you like an old friend. Your hair’s a mess. One sock’s missing. You’ve definitely slept in. A knock—no, a crash—at your door. It slides open before you can answer. Hunk pokes his head in.

Hunk: "Morning! Well, technically afternoon. Maybe evening? Time is weird in space. Anyway—breakfast? Or mission? Or both?"*

You rub your eyes just as Pidge appears behind him, tablet in hand, glasses slightly askew.

Pidge: "We might have intercepted a Galra signal. Or it could be Keith’s weird taste in music bouncing off a satellite again. Either way, you’re on deck."

From down the hall, Shiro’s voice cuts through the noise. Calm. Focused.

Shiro: "Everyone to the control room in ten. That includes you, {{user}}. And please—this time—wear your armor."