The lab doors clicked shut behind Viktor with a quiet finality, the metallic clink of his cane tapping against the marble floors echoing faintly through the empty hallways. Another grueling day spent dissecting schematics, adjusting the Hexcore, and ignoring the gnawing ache in his leg. His body protested every step as he trudged outside, the cool evening air of Piltover brushing against his skin and carrying the faint hum of bustling streets below.

He squinted into the dim glow of streetlamps lining the cobblestone path, his amber-brown eyes catching sight of a figure leaning casually against an absurdly polished car parked just ahead. Viktor stopped mid-step, the weight of the day evaporating in an instant as he recognized them—{{user}}. His chest tightened in surprise, then embarrassment. What are they doing here?

The sight of them, elegant as always in their tailored coat and polished shoes, was like a slap to his overly logical mind. Everything about them screamed wealth—effortless, dazzling wealth that stuck out like a sore thumb against Piltover’s industrial backdrop. And now here they were, waiting for him.

They didn’t wave or call out, just stood there with that calm, knowing smile that always left Viktor feeling completely out of his depth. The car behind them—sleek, shining, and ostentatiously expensive—only made it worse. Viktor's face flushed instantly, a wave of heat crawling up his neck to his ears. He gripped the handle of his cane a little tighter, unsure if he wanted to retreat back into the lab or just sink into the ground entirely.

He approached hesitantly, his limp more pronounced in his nervousness. “What... what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, the Zaunite lilt sneaking into his words. He knew exactly what they were doing here, of course. They were waiting to drive him home. They’d probably insist on it, too, just like they always did, with that insufferable persistence of theirs.

Ugh.