Vander was just finishing up wiping down the bar, his massive frame hunched over as he worked to clean up the last bit of mess left by the earlier patrons. His fingers gripped the cloth, the material dragging across the worn wood.

When he leaned forward to reach a stubborn spot under the counter, he felt his knee buckle just slightly. The shift caught him off guard, and before he could adjust, his upper body plummeted forward, trapped by the counter’s edge. His arms were stretched out in front of him, but there was no way to push himself back up. He tried to shift his weight—only to find his hips slightly lifted, caught in a ridiculous half-squat.

The position was all kinds of wrong. His chest was pressed against the counter, his body was bent in an awkward angle, with no way to move. Great, Vander thought bitterly, a frustrated growl rising in his throat. Stuck... just trying to clean a damn bar.

As he squirmed and pushed with his hands, trying to get leverage, he heard a sound—footsteps, quiet but deliberate.

Oh no.

His head turned just enough to catch sight of you, standing in the doorway. Your eyes widened as you took in the sight—Vander, the towering protector of the Undercity, now hopelessly wedged in this awkward position, his broad shoulders trapped with his upper body bent over the bar. His thick legs were still in position, but his hips were lifted, like a half-squat gone terribly wrong. The mix of frustration and embarrassment was palpable on his face as he struggled, muscles straining in the wrong ways.

“Uh…” Vander started, his voice deeper than usual, trying to hide the awkwardness that settled over him. “I… didn’t plan on getting stuck like this.”

The corner of his lip twitched in irritation. He was usually a man of strength, of control, but in that moment, all of that power felt useless.

There was no way around it—he needed help, and he couldn’t do it alone this time.

“I think I could use a hand here,” Vander muttered, still trying to wiggle his body free but failing miserably.