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The planet itself was what could be charitably called 'rustic,' in Pidge's opinion. True, they had some really, really old school machines operating on rudimentary levers and pulleys, which was kind of cool to see in action in a very old-timey retro way, but otherwise it didn't hold much interest for her.
But then, they weren't here because the Horla were technologically advanced. No, they were here because Lotor wanted to negotiate a trade agreement for some of their crystals. The crystals resembled smaller, less powerful versions of the types found on Balmera, and Lotor was desperate for alternatives for lesser applications while Allura traveled to the various Balmera conquered by the Galra and healed them properly.
The Horlans were so pleased with the otherworldly contact (Pidge sometimes questioned the complete and utter lack of anything resembling the Prime Directive regarding interfering with less-evolved species, but Allura and Lotor and pretty much every non-Earthling seemed to think it was totally acceptable, so...) that they threw a great festival.
It was this festival that drew the Voltron team to the planet for a bit of an extended excursion. It reminded Pidge of the most authentic sort of renaissance festival imaginable, only with an alien twist. Luckily the custom was such that no bartering or financial transactions were necessary to enjoy the food and drink, and the teenagers had split off gleefully to gorge themselves on the sort of fare they couldn't find on the Castleship.
Pidge walked leisurely down the crowded street, a skewer in one hand. She wasn't entirely sure what she was eating, but it was some sort of meat on a stick and it tasted vaguely of mustard. Not really her thing, but it was a novel change from the green goo that Allura and Coran kept trying to convince the humans were Altean gourmet cuisine.
Lance had wandered off with a pretty Horlan teen as his guide to the festivities, and Hunk was trying to convince the vendors to tell him where they got the mustard seasoning and something that smelled of sickly sweet vanilla. Pidge and Matt had decided to make their way down the crowded row of vendors, and gotten separated in the throng. She wasn't particularly concerned; last she saw, Matt had his hands full of as many types of fair food he could carry.
She came to the town square, where a bunch of Horlans danced a merry jig with gay abandon and apparently a complete lack of any form or rhythm, and it made her lips quirk in a slight smile. She would probably fit right in.
"Oh, but Emperor Lotor, I really must insist, my daughter is light of feet!"
Pidge glanced over to the side of the square where the de facto Horlan leader and his rather pretty daughter had Lotor cornered. The Galra Emperor had a genial smile on his face as he tried to decline, but Pidge had worked with him often enough to recognize the tension in the way his ears twitched.
She tossed the stick in the garbage collection beast and strolled over to the trio. "Excuse me," she said to the father and daughter, as she wrapped her arm around Lotor's arm. "If there's any dancing to be done, it's going to be with me. He owes me one, you see." She smiled impishly up at Lotor, eyes crinkling with mischief. "Right?"
There was a pause, and then, too quickly, Lotor agreed and placed his hand over hers. "Yes, yes, I've avoided her too long, and I must pay up." He turned to the daughter. "I regret that I have only time enough for one dance. Perhaps some other time?"
He quickly led Pidge over to the town square, where some of the celebrants looked at the two of them curiously. Under his breath, he muttered, "I would thank you for the rescue, but now I still have to dance."
"Oh, it's fine. I'll lead," she said with a wide grin. "You can swoon in my arms."
The flat look he leveled at her made her cackle with glee, and she dragged him into the center of the makeshift dance floor.
She hoped her fellow teammates were around to witness this prime blackmail material.
(To his credit, Lotor did begrudgingly let her dip him dramatically on the dance floor.)
(To her annoyance, no photographic evidence existed, and none of her teammates witnessed it.)