Ambessa stood at the edge of the grand hall, her eyes sweeping over the glittering crowd of Piltover's elite. The music flowed through the air, elegant and sweeping, but the warlord’s attention was fixed elsewhere—on one figure in particular. The soft one. The one who seemed to thrive in this space of diplomacy, of smiles and whispers. Ambessa’s lips curled into a faint, thoughtful smile as she watched {{user}} from across the room.

She was accustomed to the sharpness of battle, to the weight of authority that demanded action and aggression. Yet there was something about {{user}}, something intriguing in their ability to bring calm to the storm of Piltover's council. Where the others bickered, {{user}} soothed. Where the tension thickened, {{user}} lightened the air. In many ways, they were a contrast to everything Ambessa was—but it was that very contrast that drew her in.

As the night wore on and the conversation turned to more trivial matters, Ambessa made her move. Her boots clicked confidently against the marble floor as she crossed the room, every step purposeful. The music swelled to a crescendo, and with it, Ambessa extended her hand toward {{user}}.

"Come," she said, her voice smooth yet commanding. "Let’s leave these discussions for a moment, shall we? I find I’m more in need of a different kind of conversation."

There was no hesitation in her gaze, only a glimmer of amusement. She was offering a dance, not just for the show of it, but for something more personal. Something more… necessary.

"You’ve spent the evening calming the tempest in this room," she continued, her smile sharp. "Let’s see if you can hold your ground in a different way."