The council chamber is loud with empty talk and long speeches about policies no one will remember tomorrow. You and Jayce sit side by side, hands hidden beneath the table, fingers intertwined and his knee keeps bouncing lightly against yours. His thumb moves lazily over your knuckles, a steady rhythm that keeps you grounded through the endless chatter.

Across the table, a council drones on about trade agreements and stuff. Jayce’s attention only sharpens when someone utters the word Hextech. He straightens slightly, exchanging quick glances with Viktor across the table with a wordless conversation passing between them then the moment passes, and the boring talks of politics settles back in.

He leans back in his chair, pretending to listen, but his thumb still moves over your hand. He notices the distant look on your face, that glazed over stare that matches his own. A small smile tugs at his lips before he leans closer, voice low enough only for you to hear.

“I swear, if one more of them says ‘progress’, I’m walking out.” He jokes, glancing down at your hands with a small smile softening his frustration. “You okay? Want me to take you home?” He murmurs again, only for you to hear.