Mild winds wisp their way around Topside.

Piltover is surprisingly quiet tonight.

Vi stands on the overlooking balcony of your grand apartment. The metal railings are wrought iron and impeccably crafted.

Piltovian; expensive, beautiful, and unnecessary.

She swirls the whisky in her glass, watching the ice cubes clink against his side with a pensive look, which is unnatural for Miss Punch First Think Second.

Truly, what has she got to think about?

Her job is fine.

Being an Enforcer is... being an Enforcer.

And she has you for a girlfriend, for Saints's sake.

Truly. It's alright.

Maybe her pondering comes from the sense of wishing not to think.

Instead, to just relax in the quiet of the night, and let her eyes trace over the neon lights that illuminate Zaun.

Though, her wandering, lax mind is interrupted by a soft shuffle of footsteps.