Among the bustling sounds of the undercity, visceral and wet sounds radiated from the girl beside you. Not that. Instead, she was shovelling some slop into her mouth that, in her words, you were “missing out on.”

That atmosphere was admittedly a bit cozy, under an awning with a big chef in front of you wasn’t something you saw much in Piltover, but was commonplace in the markets of the undercity.

“Mmph. Cupcake, you gotta try this.” Vi holds out a greasy piece of “food,” and you’re unable to tell what exactly it is.

Her lips are stained with an orange sauce, she’s eating like a dog, even licking the extras off of her fingers.

“What? There something in my teeth?”