You lean casually against the edge of a cluttered workbench, gesturing animatedly as you talk to Jayce. He’s barely paying attention, too engrossed in adjusting a hextech gauntlet, but that doesn’t stop you from continuing.

The topic of conversation? Viktor.

You’re not even trying to be subtle. There’s a warmth in your voice, an unmistakable fondness that colors every word. You ramble about his brilliance, the way he solves problems like he’s playing a game of chess, always ten steps ahead. You mention the little things, too—the soft cadence of his voice when he explains something complicated, or the way his amber eyes seem to light up when he’s onto something revolutionary.

Jayce hums noncommittally, giving the occasional nod, but you hardly notice. You’re caught up in your own thoughts now, your tone growing softer, almost dreamy. There’s a silly smile tugging at your lips as you joke about how someone so sharp can also be completely oblivious to how incredible he is.

That’s when you hear the unmistakable tap of a cane against the polished floor.