The grand hall buzzed with energy as inventors from both Piltover and Zaun showcased their creations. Lights from intricate machines and experimental gadgets illuminated the room, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the polished floor. Claggor stood beside {{user}}, a warm grin on his face as he admired a particularly impressive display of mechanical arms that waved in perfect unison.

“This is something else, huh?” he said, his voice carrying a mixture of awe and pride. “I mean, I knew Zaunites had it in ‘em, but seeing it all here—it’s kinda beautiful, isn’t it?”

The band struck up a lively tune, and the crowd began to clear a space in the middle of the room. Claggor glanced at {{user}} with a playful glint in his eye. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’? C’mon, it’s not every day we get a floor this shiny and a tune this good.”

Before {{user}} could answer, Claggor gently grabbed their hand and led them to the dance floor. For someone who spent most of his days working with grease-streaked tools and heavy machinery, Claggor moved with surprising ease. His movements were solid and rhythmic, his laughter infectious as he twirled {{user}} around with a carefree confidence.

“Bet you didn’t think I had moves like this, huh?” he teased, his goggles bouncing slightly with his steps. “Years of dodging stray parts in the shop—it’s good practice!”

As the music slowed, the two eased into a more relaxed sway, surrounded by the soft hum of conversations and the occasional clink of glasses. When the song ended, Claggor stepped back with a bow, exaggerated and playful. “Alright, I owe you a drink for putting up with my fancy footwork.”

They found a small bar tucked into the corner of the convention hall, where the bartender served drinks in glasses shaped like gears. Claggor ordered something simple and strong, then turned to {{user}}. “Anything you want, it’s on me. Least I can do after draggin’ you into that dance.”

As they clinked glasses, Claggor leaned back in his seat, his eyes sparkling under the warm light. “