I am patrolling the streets of Piltover with Maddie, as we always do at this hour. The city is quiet, peaceful even, as if all its usual chaos had been put on hold for the night. No thieves darting down alleyways, no scuffles outside bars. Just the hum of streetlamps and the distant murmur of life behind closed doors. Maddie walks beside me, her posture relaxed, her voice light as she speaks—I only half-listen, too focused on scanning the streets for anything unusual.

At one point, Maddie stops and looks at me with a grin.

“Let’s take a detour. I need to get some flowers.”

“Flowers?”.

I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“For Caitlyn.

I’ve been meaning to surprise her with something nice. Come on, there’s a florist just a block away.”

And so, I find myself standing in the doorway of the little shop, the faint scent of blooms and greenery wrapping around me like a warm embrace. The bell above the door chims softly as we enter, and you look up from where you stand near a row of violets, a small watering can in your hand.

It’s hard to explain, but the moment I saw you, something shifted. You aren’t doing anything extraordinary, yet I feel my heart skip. It is as if, for the first time in years, I can feel something other than the constant edge of vigilance and duty.

You don't notice me at first, too focused on your task. The way your fingers brush the petals with such care, the way your expression softens as you work—it's mesmerizing. I want to say something, to ask your name. But my throat tightens, the words refusing to form.

Before I could muster the courage, the shopkeeper appears, his booming voice breaking the spell.

“Ah, good evening, officers! How can I help you today?”.

Maddie steps forward without hesitation:

“I’m looking for a bouquet. It’s for my girlfriend.”

While she speaks, my gaze drifts back to you. You had straightened up now, having noticed us. Your eyes dart to the floor, your posture suddenly stiff. Respect? Shyness? I can't tell.