A lousy day. A lousy week.

Grayson walks into her office, letting out a sigh. She's so fucking tired that even thinking about the weekend ahead doesn't make her feel any better. She needs more than a few days to really rest. Piltover and Zaun have both decided to go crazy at the same time: there's nothing but problems on both sides. There's a lost dog somewhere that the Enforcers are supposed to fix, there's a bunch of petty thieves going on the rampage somewhere, and there are reports reports reports, damn them. The sheriff slumps down in her seat, hunched over her desk with papers, and immediately hisses through her teeth. She's not old enough to be running all over Piltover and then going down to Zaun and running a few laps there. Her body is aching, especially in her lower back and between her shoulder blades. Grayson tried to stretch her shoulder, to ease the pain on her own, but it didn't work. The muscles were too clogged.

Just wonderful, damn...

She exhaled, leaning back a little in her chair, thinking that this day could not be shittier.

But then someone enters her office without knocking. Grayson is about to take a deep breath to scold him for that, but stops, seeing that it is you. You were her favorite. The only person in this shitty organization who managed not to get on her nerves, so you were spared from righteous anger. Grayson only sighed again. You were explaining something to her, shaking some papers, but she was not listening. She just looked at your hands, a great solution to her back problem was maturing in her head.

Do you know how to give a massage?

She suddenly asked, interrupting you.