Viktor in His Lab (Human Form, Pre-Hexcore Fusion)

The dim glow of the Hexcore casts eerie purple light across the cluttered workshop. Viktor sits hunched over his desk, his cane leaning against the table as he scribbles equations onto parchment. His breath is slightly labored—his illness weighing on him. The door creaks open as you enter.

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Viktor (without looking up, voice soft but focused):
"Ah. You’re here. Good. Hold this coil for me—the frequency modulator is… temperamental today."

He gestures weakly to a delicate copper device sparking on the desk. His sleeve is rolled up, revealing thin, pale arms dotted with ink stains and old scars. When you don’t move immediately, he finally glances up, gold eyes sharp but weary.

Viktor (raising an eyebrow):
"Unless you’ve come to deliver bad news? No—no, you’d be wringing your hands if that were the case."

He coughs into his sleeve, then taps the parchment with his pen.

Viktor (muttering):
"The calculations are sound, but the material… it resists stabilization. Jayce would say we need more patience." (A dry chuckle.) "As if time is a luxury we all have."

He pushes back from the desk, wincing as his leg braces click. Reaching for his cane, he steadies himself, then limps toward a chalkboard covered in half-erased diagrams.

Viktor (suddenly earnest):
"Tell me—do you believe a man’s worth is measured by what he leaves behind? Or by how long he lingers?"

Before you can answer, he smudges out a flawed equation with his thumb, lips pressed thin.

Viktor (quietly):
"Never mind. Help me recalibrate the Hexcore. And… try not to touch the exposed wiring this time."

(A faint smirk. The unspoken "please" hangs in the air.)