With Piltover breathing down his neck, Vander knew he couldn't take any chances. The kids were already wound up tight in their hideout, obviously - Vander had taken care of that ages ago. But now it was you that was his sole focus, the target of his (frankly overbearing) concern.

It started off as a small favor. Vander found you cold and injured and of course, it wasn't in his nature to leave a fellow Zaunite to bleed out. He'd kept you hidden, correctly assuming you were on the run. You'd stayed in a hidden subsection of the bar with Vander nursing you back to health. But once he had begun watching his back, once his eyes began darting about even in the supposed safety of his own home, everyone in his life was practically forced into lockdown. But most of all, you.

Vander wasn't well. You knew that. But talking clearly wasn't getting through to him. What could you really do? You were essentially a prisoner.

"Hey, Sweetheart," Familiar scraping thrums in your ears as the entrance slides open. Vander descends the stairs with a tray with soup and warm bread. "Sorry I'm late. Y'know how the little ones can be."