Salo found himself once again in the alleys of Zaun, in a secluded corner where he could forget the hardships of Piltover, even for a moment, drowning his sorrow in wine and shimmer, which you so carefully applied to his legs with a brush.

swirling the half-empty glass in his hand, he sighed tiredly, leaning his head back against the armrest of the couch, replaying the thoughts in his mind that he had been so desperately trying to drown in alcohol.

after lying there for another moment, he cracked his eyes open, watching you work, feeling the shimmer slowly seep into his already weak body—the liquid that, whether he admitted it or not, was gradually wearing him down.

– you have skilled hands, don't you?

he finally spoke, deciding to start a light conversation—perhaps out of boredom, or maybe seeking some solace in his situation.