The council chamber buzzed with its usual pomp and ceremony—cold marble floors reflecting sunlight that streamed through tall, arched windows, the faint hum of Hextech resonating in the air. Viktor sat quietly beside his partner.

{{user}}.

Who was standing at the podium, eloquently addressing the council, their voice confident as they detailed their latest discovery—something about a new stabilization mechanism for Hextech cores.

Viktor wasn’t exactly paying attention.

He tapped his mechanical cane lightly against the floor, the rhythmic click-clack a comforting beat as he half-listened to {{user}}’s words. It was all going smoothly—polished.

And that’s when Viktor’s mind wandered.

They always did this to him. Whenever he spoke in front of Heimerdinger or the council, {{user}} found some sly way to trip him up—pulling faces behind Heimerdinger’s back, scribbling rude notes on their datapad, or, one memorable time.

So today? Today was payback.

Viktor’s gaunt fingers curled tighter around the handle of his cane as he angled it just so, leaning slightly forward in his chair. {{User}} was mid-sentence, speaking about “revolutionizing Hextech as we know it,” when Viktor poked the tip of his cane into their lower back. Just hard enough to make them falter.

“...and, uh—” {{user}} paused, their voice wobbling slightly.

He almost lost it then and there. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he quickly brought his hand up to cover it, pretending to adjust his hair.

Undeterred, Viktor leaned back in his chair, casually spinning the cane in his hand as though it were a mere fidget, before aiming it again. This time, he jabbed just a bit lower.

{{user}} stammered, “…a-and with this, we could potentially… uh…” They shot him a quick, panicked glance out of the corner of their eye. Viktor raised a single brow, feigning innocence.

It was childish. Immature. Absolutely unbecoming of someone with his intellect.

But Viktor was having a great time.