Klance
Lance's POV
"And that's why my bloodline is the best!" He said. Man, I hate this guy. Why did I agree to go out with him? And to a diner? Oh yeah, right. His tinder profile made him seem really cool. 'Lotor, age 26. I have the best hair. Pureblood.' I thought that pureblood meant he was a Harry Potter fan. Apparently it means he truly thinks he and his bloodline are better than everyone else. Gotta give him this, though. That's some amazing hair. And while he isn't into Harry Potter, he likes other, more obscure things. So I decide to suck it up and stay.

"Quintessence should have been a man. We already have too many girl characters. Why would we need a second?" Lotor shakes his head angrily as he sips his milkshake. "And one of them is gay? Why?" I'm confused at this. He's on a date with me, isn't he gay? Or bi?

"Are you not queer?" I ask.

"I just think," He continues without answering my question, "That they shouldn't make characters girls or gay or transgender or people of color for no reason. It's not relevant to the story. I understand diversity, but this is too much. They're shoving it in our faces."

"Well," I say. I'm really sick of this guy. "What's the point of straight white men in every story? If it isn't relevant to the story, then it won't affect anything for someone to be transgender or something."

"Oh, you're one of those kinds of people?" Lotor asks with a sneer.

"What kind of person?" I lean across the table, ready to fight my date. But I don't have to. Because right as he's about to stand up, a pinkish milkshake is poured on his crotch and legs.

"Oops." A bored voice says. I look up and see a man standing next to Lotor, an upside down milkshake glass in his hand. His hair is dark and long, covering his eyes.

"How dare you!" Lotor shouts. "These pants were six hundred dollars!" He stands up and throws a punch at the other guy (I'm calling him milkshake man). Milkshake man dodges, ducking and swerving. A tall, muscular man  walks up and starts taking quietly to Lotor before escorting him out of the diner.

Milkshake man looks at me and sits across from me, concern in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asks. "Sorry about, um, spilling that milkshake on that jerk. Are you okay?" He pushes his hair back, exposing blue-grey eyes.

"I'm great. How are you?"

He doesn't seem to notice what I said. "Was that your boyfriend?"

"No." I respond. "Just a bad date. I'm not going to be seeing him again."

"Well, I'm named Keith." Milkshake man- er, Keith- says. "Sorry you had such a bad date." I smile at him and realize something.

"It's not so bad anymore."