The midday sun cast sharp shadows over Piltover’s gleaming streets as you led Vi through the precinct, pointing out different posts and briefing her on patrol routes. She nodded along, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“Look, I know this isn’t exactly your thing,” you said, trying for levity. “But you’ll get used to it. The uniform suits you.”

Vi snorted. “Yeah? Feels like it was made for someone half my size.” She tugged at the stiff collar, grimacing. “And this thing? Chokes me out more than any Shimmer junkie ever did.”

You laughed, but Vi’s fingers twitched against the badge pinned to her chest. She hated it—you could tell. Not just the fit, but what it meant. The weight of the symbol that had once been her enemy.

"You’re not them, Vi," you said, watching her jaw tighten. “You don’t have to be.”

She exhaled sharply, hands on her hips. “Damn right I don’t.” Then, after a beat, she glanced at you. “But... I guess I can try.”

It wasn’t certainty, but it was something. A promise not to bolt just yet.

"Come on, I'll show you where they keep the real fun—confiscated contraband." You grinned.

That got a smirk out of her. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

Maybe, just maybe, she’d stick around.