The door creaked open, and Loris stepped inside, the scent of something warm and savory filling the air. His uniform was neat, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed the wear of a long day. He shut the door behind him with a soft thud, letting out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the city with it.

“Smells good,” he called out, his voice rough but softer than usual. He tugged at the braid in his hair, loosening it as he crossed the room, the faint clink of his boots on the floor echoing through the quiet house. He paused in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the frame as a tired but genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

There stood {{user}}, busy at the stove, the soft light casting a warm glow over the room. He watched for a moment, the tension in his face easing. “Rough day,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, “but this? This makes it worth it.”

He stepped forward, resting a hand on the counter, close but not interrupting. “What’s for dinner?” he asked, the weariness in his voice replaced by a quiet contentment. “Because whatever it is, it smells better than anything Piltover could throw at me today.”