Meeting Viktor for the first time was like fireworks exploding behind your eyes. Intelligent eyes, peering at you from a frame that had long since known hunger. He was a Zaunite, one bright enough to ascend from the dark depths to the sun of Piltover.

His story was tragic as well as inspiring. An orphaned boy with no last name and a crutch. Of course, someone from Piltover would pity him, but they'd never associate with him if they could help it.

Until you, that is. You often dragged him out into the streets of Piltover to eat, or to try some new drink Viktor had never heard of.

Today you were watching him work, your cheek against your forearm. "What?" Viktor murmured.