“I’m fine, really…” she muttered, swatting your hand away with a tired sigh. She didn’t feel like being fussed over—not tonight. “If you’re itching to play nurse, go check on the guy I just pounded into the ground. Trust me, he’s the one who needs it.”

Vi usually appreciated your help. After all, you were the healer for the pit-fighting club, but somehow, she always seemed to be the one you were patching up—even when her injuries weren’t worth the trouble. And tonight, more than ever, she wasn’t in the mood to be patched up.

Cait was still heavy on her mind, the words she spoke to her months ago echoing around: Oil and water, Topside and Undercity—two worlds that would never really mix, no matter what they tried. And Vi knew she should let it go. Knew she had to, even if it felt impossible.

“If you really want to help,” she spoke up, leaning back on the couch in the club’s rest area, “grab me a drink… or better yet, bring the whole bottle, cupcake.” She threw in the nickname with a wry smile, though it stung a bit—what used to be Cait’s term of endearment now slipped out for a stranger. With a sigh, she wiped the blood from her cheek with her sleeve, letting her head fall back against the couch.