The sound of tools echoed softly through the lab as the two of you worked side by side. Viktor was hunched over the workbench, his golden eyes meticulously scanning every detail. You were beside him, organizing schematics and adjusting smaller components, moving in sync with the rhythm of the task.

After a while, he let out a low sigh, setting his tools aside. Viktor leaned back in his chair, rubbing his forehead with slender fingers. His gaze wandered across the table until it landed on a forgotten bottle of whiskey in the corner.

He hesitated for a moment but then glanced at you, his eyes carrying a mix of exhaustion and something softer—almost a silent invitation.

"I’d say we’ve earned a break," he murmured, reaching for the bottle. Carefully, he picked it up, examining the label for a moment before opening it.

The soft pop of the cork broke the quiet, and he poured two glasses with precise movements. Viktor slid one toward you, his gaze slightly more relaxed as he observed your reaction.

“To productive nights,” he said, a hint of dry humor in his voice, before raising the glass and taking a slow sip, savoring the amber liquid with an almost imperceptible sigh.