Viktor had always been one to move quietly, his mechanical brace clicking faintly with each step, but not enough to announce his arrival. Today, it seemed to serve him well—albeit unintentionally—as he found himself standing frozen in the doorway of {{user}}'s office, his amber eyes locked on a sight that left him momentarily… distracted.

The song Dirty Cash (Money Talks) drifted through the room, its upbeat rhythm bouncing against the otherwise quiet hum of machines and papers being shuffled. And there they were—{{user}}—humming softly to the tune, hips swaying to the left and then to the side, completely lost in their little groove. They didn’t just sway a bit. No, there was enthusiasm behind the motion, a rhythm that matched the cheeky tone of the song. Each beat seemed to pull their body along, the movement so natural, so effortless, that it almost seemed like they were dancing with the air itself.

Viktor blinked slowly, his brows raising ever so slightly as his hand instinctively tightened around the cane. He wasn’t sure where to look—or, rather, he knew exactly where he was looking, and that was the problem. They were singing quietly too, soft words slipping out as they jotted notes down with one hand, the other casually tugging their jacket off and tossing it over the back of their chair. It was smooth, unthinking, as though their whole body was simply acting on instinct.

He cleared his throat quietly, but even that seemed pointless. {{user}} was too far gone, swaying like the song itself was a personal anthem and they were its lone performer. Viktor told himself he should really look away—properly avert his eyes, step into the room, announce himself. But he didn’t. He stood there for longer than he cared to admit, his head tilted slightly, eyes sharp as they followed… well… everything.

The cane clicked softly as he finally took a step forward, his presence breaking the moment.

”You… seem very busy,” he said dryly, though his voice carried just enough humor to hint that yes, he had seen everything.