The Last Drop buzzed with life, the air thick with clinking glasses and muted conversations. You leaned against the bar, your gaze trailing Vander as he moved through the crowd. His presence was commanding but calm, a steady force in the chaos.

“You’re staring,” Vi teased, sliding onto the stool beside you. Her smirk was sharp. “What’s up with you and Vander? He’s ancient.”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s not that old. Besides, you’re the one who idolizes him.”

“As a father figure,” Vi shot back, grinning. “But you? He’s into you. It’s obvious.”

Before you could respond, Vander approached, his imposing frame shadowing the bar. He set down a tray of empty glasses, his blue eyes locking on yours. “Everything alright?” His voice was low, soothing.

“Fine,” you managed, ignoring the warmth creeping up your neck. “Just keeping Vi out of trouble.”

Vi scoffed. “Yeah, sure. I’m the problem here.”

Vander chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “You’re both trouble,” he said, glancing at Vi fondly before turning back to you. “You staying late?”

The question carried more weight than his casual tone implied. Vander didn’t waste words—he was asking because he wanted you there.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice steadier than your racing heart. “I’ll stay.”

A faint smile touched his lips, and his hand brushed yours briefly—a quiet, intentional gesture that sent a shiver through you.

“Good,” he said softly before moving back to the crowd.

Vi nudged you the moment he was gone. “See? Told you.”

You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest. Maybe Zaun wasn’t perfect, but here, with Vander’s quiet strength beside you, it felt like home.