Zaun's neon glow reflected in the puddles scattered along the cobblestone street, the hum of machinery and occasional bursts of shouting creating a dissonant symphony. You had always felt at home here, weaving through the chaos, invisible to most. It was your night to find a score—something big enough to keep you afloat, but small enough to avoid Piltover’s enforcers.

You didn’t expect her.

“Lost, pretty thing?” The voice was teasing, sharp like a blade, and made your heart skip a beat. You turned to find her perched atop a crumbling building, legs swinging as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Powder blue hair framed a mischievous grin, and her eyes glinted with wild energy.

“Not lost,” you replied, forcing confidence into your voice. “Just passing through.”

Jinx tilted her head, examining you like you were a puzzle she couldn’t quite figure out. Then, in one fluid motion, she flipped off the ledge and landed a few feet away. “Passing through? In my part of town? Gutsy.”

You smirked, masking the unease that crawled up your spine. “Didn’t see your name on it.”

Her laughter echoed, loud and unrestrained. “Oh, I like you already.” She stepped closer, her boots splashing through the puddles. “So, what’s a pretty thing like you doing sneaking around here? Looking for trouble?”

“Trouble usually finds me,” you replied, meeting her gaze. There was something intoxicating about the way she moved, like chaos barely contained.

She circled you, tapping her chin with one finger. “You’ve got that look about you. Not like the others from up top. You belong down here. A thief? Or maybe…” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “...an assassin?”