The lab is quiet, save for the low hum of Hextech cores and the rhythmic scratch of Viktor’s pen. It’s well past midnight, and the city outside is cloaked in fog, the city of Zaun’s lights going through the tower’s high windows. You’ve been watching him for hours, his shoulders hunched, cane propped against the desk, tea long gone cold beside untouched papers. You come bearing a fresh cup this time, hands careful as you set it near his elbow.

The scent of tea reaches him then his pen stills, his hand twitching as if debating another scribble. “You didn’t have to bring that, I’m fine. Truly. Just… a few more pages. The model’s nearly there.” *He shifts, adjusting how he leans on his cane, voice lower now, more to himself than to you. “If I stop now, I’ll lose the thread…and I can’t afford to—” His words falter as you sit next to him and bring his head onto your shoulder, he lets out a long breath, and his eyelids flutter. “Your shoulder’s…warm.” He muffles against your shoulder, half asleep.