Late afternoon in Piltover, the sun dipped below the skyline. Your mom’s fancy dinner party was tonight, and while you’d looked forward to it, standing in front of the mirror now, the pressure to look perfect was sinking in.

You finished your makeup, smoky eyes, highlighter, red lipstick, but your thoughts kept drifting to Vi. The last thing you needed was to keep her waiting.

“Babe, we’re gonna be late,” came Vi’s familiar, gruff voice from the doorway.

You looked up to see her leaning against the frame, smirking. She wore a sharp black suit that contrasted perfectly with her pink hair.

“I’m almost ready, I swear,” you said, brushing hair from your face.

Vi rolled her eyes. “You’re always almost ready.” She walked over, resting a hand on your waist.

Her eyes lingered on your strapless black dress, elegant, sultry, and hugging you in all the right places.