The tension between Piltover and Zaun had never been higher. So much so that the Council had authorized a series of ‘containment missions’ deep within the most dangerous districts of the Undercity: an attempt to keep the shimmer trade from spilling into Piltover’s pristine streets.

You and Caitlyn had been assigned to one of these missions: track down a shimmer smuggler rumored to be supplying various Zaunite gangs.

But your contact: a Zaunite informant you were told you could trust, had fucking betrayed you. By sunset, you found yourselves stranded in the heart of Zaun.

The slums extended without end around you: narrow alleys choked with steam and pipes leaking unknown chemicals, flickering green neon signs casting ghostly light down at the puddles below. The air smelled of rust, oil, and the bitter tang of scorched metal. Every breath left your tongue bitter. Somewhere beneath your feet, the constant hum of the underground engines echoed like a distant heartbeat… steady, suffocating, impossible to ignore.

“It’s almost night now… we’ll continue in the morning.”

Caitlyn’s voice cut through the noise, but you could hear the exhaustion beneath her usual discipline. After a brief exchange, you both decided to take shelter in an abandoned workshop nearby.

The building was hollow, stripped of anything useful. Broken glass crunched under your boots. A single, dust-covered lamp flickered on the wall, painting everything in pale, sickly light. There was nothing left: no furniture, no blankets; only a small, filthy mattress thrown carelessly onto the floor.

“It’s not ideal.”

Caitlyn murmured.

“but you can sleep there.”

Her voice was soft, almost reluctant, as if she hated the thought of resting in a place that reeked of rust and decay.

Should you have asked her to share that mattress…? Or would that have been inappropriate?