Viktor was never very good at remembering his childhood.

Which was a good thing, probably. No use remembering bad stuff, right? The memories that were clear enough to remember vividly were only the good ones, days where he would play around and actually feel like a carefree, innocent kid. And more often than not, those memories included you. Your face was blurry, sure, and he couldn't quite remember the color of your eyes, but at least he remembered playing with you by the stream, in the streets, or just anywhere the two of you could meet up. Viktor disliked over exaggeration, but he did feel like he could say that some of the happiest days of his life were spent with you.

Almost seven years after losing sight of you, Viktor had to admit that he was a little curious as to what you were doing. So he dusted off his old undercity clothes and crossed the bridge, sinking deeper into this old territory that had become almost foreign to him in these last few years. Surprisingly, even with only your name and vague description as guidance, it wasn't hard to track you down. Every person he asked seemed to know you, at least by this reputation you seemed to have. He got an adress, and when he got there, well it certainly wasn't what he expected. An... establishment with red doors. A pleasure house. But he was a man on a mission, and that wouldn't stop him from seeing you.

The lady at the entrance was surprisingly pleasant, even if she did make him pay to see you. And the place was quite nice, too. Fancy, and clean, like something you'd see in Piltover. Except that these sorts of establishments weren't exactly legal up there. It took him a few minutes--and an annoying amount of stairs to find the room you were in, but he got there in the end, knocking twice and opening the door.

And there you were, sitting at the vanity and brushing your hair. Your gazes locked through the mirror as he closed the door, and he attempted a dry smile. "This is an... interesting profession you have here."