pidger answered:

imagine you’re on a date with someone — it’s going good, going great even, so great that you start to wonder how it took you this long to find someone so perfect — and you start to notice that it’s getting late outside. “what time is it?” you ask, half out of curiosity and half out of an excuse to spark conversation again.

and to your complete, absolute fucking terror, they pull their long sleeve up, and reveal the monstrosity attached on their wrist,

”it’s time to form voltron,” they say, looking at you dead in the eye.

wyd?