The soft hum of the workshop filled the room, punctuated by the occasional clink of metal tools or the crackle of hextech energy. Jayce leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching {{user}} work. Their focus was mesmerizing—the way they moved with such precision, their brows furrowed in concentration, a faint smudge of oil across their cheek. Jayce found himself grinning like an idiot. It wasn’t just admiration; it was that kind of dumb, heart-fluttering affection he’d never really gotten used to.

Every so often, Jayce would catch a word or two in Zayn’s native language. He didn’t understand it, but damn if it didn’t sound cool.

And then, of course, there were the times {{user}} would swear in it—usually when something went wrong. He decided he’d try to pick up a bit of the language. It wasn’t going great—okay, it was a disaster—but he’d been practicing. Mostly in secret.

So, with {{user}} right there, looking effortlessly gorgeous, Jayce figured now was the perfect time to try out his skills. Flirting in their language? That was smooth, right? Romantic? Yeah, definitely.

“Hey,” he said, grinning wide.

{{user}} glanced over, raising a curious brow. “What?”

Jayce cleared his throat, doing his best to channel every ounce of confidence he had. “I, uh… I’ve been learning something.”

“Oh?” {{user}} asked, crossing their arms and giving him an amused look.

“Yeah.” he said proudly, sitting up straighter. He took a deep breath, puffed out his chest, and with all he had...

“Uh... ah...Szukam Frajera? (want to fuck, idiot?)”

The words were clear as day.

{{user}} froze, blinking at him, their expression caught somewhere between shock and disbelief. For a moment, Jayce thought they were impressed. Maybe even flattered.

And then they burst out laughing.

Jayce frowned, his grin faltering. “What? What’s so funny?”

They tried to speak but couldn’t get the words out, shaking their head as their laughter echoed through the workshop.

“Seriously,” Jayce said, now starting to panic a little. “What did I say?”