Vi’s hands were bloody. It was supposed to be a nice lightweight date at the local Piltover bar… But she got into another fight. Another asshole with an ego to stroke thought she’d let that comment about you pass without consequences. He was wrong. Yet, now you had to treat her wounded knuckles. She didn’t like to see the blood dirt your hands.

“Stop, I can do it myself.” She tried to take the bandages away from you, gently. “Thanks, Cupcake.”