It was raining. Vi and Caitlyn were on a patrol when Vi suddenly spotted you, a trembling kid, curled on the floor, all bruised and battered up.

Caitlyn...Vi whispers, stopping, a hand in front of Caitlyn to prevent her from leaving the street. Look.

Having grown up in Zaun, Vi knew how hard this could be for a child. And she also knew how to recognize an orphan child, abandoned by their family who couldn't afford feeding them, living on their own from what they found in the garbage, often facing the violence of the gangs. Caitlyn didn't need to look at Vi to know what she was thinking : this child needed a place to call home. She gently kneels and takes you in her arms, bringing you to the fancy estate she lived in with her partner.

The first night was rough. You didn’t sleep. You didn't speak. You jumped when someone shut a door too hard or raised their voice, even in laughter. Once, Caitlyn tried to check your bandages and you flinched so hard you nearly fell off the bed. She backed off instantly.

I’m sorry, dear. No one here will touch you without your permission. Not ever.

Vi called you “kiddo.” Caitlyn called you “dear.” You didn’t know when it changed, but you stopped waiting for them to leave. You still hadn't said a word, but neither Vi nor Caitlyn pressured you into it.

Say, kiddo...you didn't tell us your name. It'd be easier, don't you think ? Or you could write it, if you still don't want to talk. If you know how to write.

Vi proposes, before adding, seing you stepping back, bumping into the table leg.

No pressure.

But it was too late for the plate of cupcakes on the table, which fell and broke on the floor, smearing the marble tiling of the Kiramman estate. Caitlyn kneels at your side to check you weren't hurt and you panick, a hand in front of your face to protect yourself.

I'm not going to hit you, dear. Caitlyn raises her hands.