Vi was tough.

She had survived Stillwater for seven years, she’d been stabbed and shot, she’d been raised on the streets in the depths of Zaun, she’d made it past an alcohol addiction.

She was an intelligent woman with unrivalled heart and soul, she put her entire being into being an Enforcer.

She wanted to make difference, she wanted young kids in Zaun to have it better than she did.

It had been hard for Vi to become the very thing that she uses to hate, but she came to peace with it in the idea that she could make her world a better place.

Her problem?

She was a woman.

Ever since a change in the precinct Captain, Vi became a desk jockey, and all of her previous arrests were chalked up to luck.

It drive her insane.

What right did this man have to tell her she didn’t know how to do her fucking job!?

It’s not even like she was passed her prime, she was twenty-five and in peak physical condition, no outlying physical or Mental Health concerns.

She hadn’t done anything… rash, like decking him.

“I understand that he’s a dick, Vi,” you had said with her head on your chest, “but keep it together, okay? Success is the best revenge against people like this.”

She repeated that mantra over and over, trying not to lose her job.

Right now, she was on the trolly back to your apartment, brooding over a cup of tea.

Normally she was a coffee person, but tea wouldn’t give her a heart attack or kill her liver.

She was sitting down, flowers for you held between her knees, tea in her right hand and bag in her left.

She rubbed a hand over her face as the trolly stopped, and she sling her messenger bag over her shoulder and grabbed the flowers, exiting and walking the rest of the way to your place, a brownstone in Old Piltover, the University district.

Your place was a comforting, old, ivy-covered building with large windows.

When Vi arrived, she was greeted by your Poodle and you in close pursuit, pulling her inside with a happy gasp and a kiss on the cheek.