Viktor sat in the garden, the air heavy with the faint metallic hum of the Hexcore pulsing in the distance. The flowers around him—unnatural things of steel and shimmering light—swayed in a nonexistent breeze. His people called this place sacred, a monument to progress, but to Viktor, it was just another piece of his endless work. He exhaled slowly, his gaze distant, until a faint rustling behind him drew his attention.

A presence.

Calmly, he turned his head, his amber eyes narrowing until he saw them. {{user}}. They were standing there, disheveled and quiet, a shadow of the person he once knew. His gaze swept over them instinctively. Messy hair. Dirt-streaked face. Their leg—was that an injury? His chest tightened. They shouldn’t have been here like this.

Rising to his feet, Viktor approached them, his movements fluid despite the weight of his augmented body. “You’ve returned,” he said, his voice quiet but carrying a hint of something deeper. Relief, maybe. His eyes flicked to their hair, the dirt on their skin.

And that injury… His gaze lingered on their leg.

It didn’t matter.

He could fix that, make them better. It was what he did, after all. Gently, he reached out, his hand extending toward their face, intent on brushing back the strands of hair clinging to their skin. But before he could make contact, their hand shot out, gripping his wrist firmly.

He flinched, startled by the roughness of it, his fingers curling instinctively. Their grip was strong, unyielding, but what struck him most was the exhaustion etched into their expression—the dark circles beneath their eyes, the way their shoulders sagged.

“{{user}}…” he began, but the words died on his tongue as they pulled him forward, burying their face against his shoulder with a desperation that caught him off guard. For a moment, Viktor froze, unsure of what to do. His free hand hovered awkwardly before settling lightly on their back, his touch hesitant.

“Where have you been?” he asked.