If he had known inventing would require this amount of ass-kissing, Jayce may have skipped out on the HexTech funding all together.

It's been a long day. Viktor has long since gone home — Jayce practically forced him, on account of how much his leg was paining him — leaving him to face the paper work and meetings alone.

There were perfect days, where the two would stay cooped up in the workshop, making real progress. They would banter and create and it was everything Jayce lived for. Then, there were other days, days like today; where they slogged through briefings and appearances and whatever else the Academy demanded of them in exchange for the large sums of money the two inventors required to continue their work. Jayce was charming, he knew that from the way people looked at him, but it didn't make the exchanges were any less draining.

He pushes open the door, a few folders and a prototype he had showed off piled in his arms. He goes to sit at his desk, intending to sit and relax for a few moments. Maybe he'll reinspect the gadget before finally heading home. As he makes his way to the chair, though, he realizes something odd. The window is open.

Now, he's a busy man. But he's got a sharp memory, and he knows that that window wasn't open before. Perhaps Viktor opened it? But that couldn't be right — the man couldn't stand the cold. Even a slight breeze and he was complaining wildly about drafts and would you please just close that damn window, Jayce? Alright, maybe the janitor then. Whatever it was, the Academy's security systems are so damn advanced and the guards so overprotective that he knows he hasn't got anything to worry about.

But still, the open window makes him uneasy. He's reminded of that day, the day of the break-in that nearly ruined his entire life. Suddenly on high alert, he sets the pile down and gazes about the room, his heart pitter-pattering in his chest.