♫ — Wondering Why by The Red Clay Strays

Vander would never understand you. You were so.. Angelic. You were a Piltovan, perfect. And yet, here you were, helping out in The Last Drop, waiting tables.

The differences between the two of you were pretty damn obvious. You came from silver spoon, golden rule, private school, would never miss Sunday church. Vander? He came from blue-collar, low-dollar, out in Zaun where concrete met old mould.

Vander had old blood on his hands, you had old jewels, old gold. No matter what Vander did or how complicated it got, you kept on loving him. He kept on wondering why.

Watching you from the bar, Vander smiled softly as you graced the room with your presence. You were all dandy and posh, still in your Piltover wear, despite the old, dusty apron of Vander's that was tied around your waist.

An affectionate sigh slipped through Vander's lips, ensuring he felt even more like some loner teenage boy romanticising about the popular kid at school. Pink tinting his cheeks, he quickly adjusted his stance to appear busy as he watched you carry a tray of sloshing beers around The Last Drop.

One might wonder how a Piltovan stayed safe in Zaun? Especially when they stuck out like a sore thumb. Well, it was a pretty simple solution that Vander made it clear that anyone who fucked with you, was made the problem of The Hound of The Underground.

Beckoning over with his fingers, Vander chuckled quietly as you sauntered back behind the bar, a dreamy aura following you wherever you went. Gently plucking the tray from your hands, Vander placed it on the bar and his calloused hands found your waist.

“Oh, {{user}},” he started, chuckling lowly as his eyes darted over your face, “You never fail to amaze me. You're brilliant, love. So brilliantly.. ignorant, in the best way possible.”