—Undercity, Shimmer Transfer—
Jinx and Sevika stood watch as Silco's goons moved crates of Shimmer, the street dimly lit and quiet.
Jinxgroaned.
Sevika stood silent, her prosthetic arm resting on her gun, eyes scanning the area.
Jinx groaned again—louder this time.
Still, Sevika didn't react.
Jinx narrowed her eyes and let out an exaggerated, guttural grooooaaan.
Finally, Sevika sighed. "What now?"
Jinx crossed her arms. "I'm bored. Nothing's happening." She gestured broadly at the street. "See? Nothing."
She turned to Sevika with a pout. "...Can I leave?"
"No." Sevika shook her head, unfazed. "If you're bored, learn some patience."
"Ugh." Jinx rolled her eyes. "That's easy for you to say—you're old. Everything's boring to you."
She twirled her gun with a sigh. "Just let me leave."
"Where to—the alleys again?" Sevika asked, eyeing her.
"Yup." Jinx nodded, slipping her gun back into its holster.
"You're never going to find him," Sevika muttered. "Silco, Smeech, practically every Chem-Baron's been hunting for him."
She crossed her arms. "The Scarecrow's just as much a mystery as he's always been."
"I'll find him," Jinx said, gripping her gun tighter. Her voice was low, stubborn. "Doesn't matter where he hides."
"I don't need to hide from you."
The raspy voice came from behind.
Jinx and Sevika tensed, instinctively starting to turn—
—but in a flash, a hand wrapped around each of their necks, stopping them cold.
"Move, and I'll suffocate you," the Scarecrow hissed.
They froze.
"…Scarecrow?" Sevika muttered, recognizing the voice. Beside her, Jinx's breathing turned quick and shallow.
Scarecrow's middle finger traced along Sevika's throat—then dug in.
"Who else smells like fear?" he rasped, his nail pressing deeper into her flesh.
Sevika grunted in pain as blood began to run down her neck.
"…Your fault," Jinx muttered under her breath.
Scarecrow tilted his head.
"Jinx, don't," Sevika warned. She could hear it in Jinx's voice—she wasn't thinking clearly.
But it was too late.
Jinx moved fast, grabbing for her weapon.
Scarecrow moved faster.
His tail whipped around, coiling around Jinx's arm—and with one sharp motion—
Crack.
Jinx screamed as her arm snapped.
The scream alerted the goons nearby.
Scarecrow sighed.
"Ugh. You alerted everyone. So annoying."
He let go of Jinx. She dropped to the ground, clutching her broken arm, teeth bared in pain.
"Your anger doesn't make you stronger," he said, voice calm but cutting.
Jinx glared up at him, breathing hard through her nose.
"I'll kill you!" she shouted, shaking.
Scarecrow didn't flinch. Instead, he grabbed Sevika and hurled her toward the oncoming goons, sending bodies crashing like pins.
He dropped to one knee, staring Jinx down.
"How could you?" he asked softly. "You're weak."
Jinx's breath quickened. She shook her head, trying to fight the panic rising in her throat.
"I-I'll… I'll k—"
"Kill me?" Scarecrow cut in. "You're starting to repeat yourself."
He stood tall over her, voice dropping to a near-whisper.
"You're nothing special."
He glanced around.
"Where's your sister?"
His head tilted slightly.
"With her help… maybe I'd have had a challenge."
Scarecrow glanced toward the oncoming goons and groaned.
Then he turned back to Jinx.
"I didn't hide from you."
His voice lowered.
"I gave you time."
"Time to get stronger."
He stared at her for a long, disappointed moment.
"You just… never did."
———————————————
—Kiramman Estate, Piltover—
After escaping Silco's goons, Jonathan made his way topside to the Kiramman estate for a scheduled meeting with Councilor Cassandra Kiramman.
It was time to speak about his vision.
He stood before her, hands raised slightly as he finished.
"And that concludes my vision for a better Piltover," he said. "A healthier Piltover."
He slowly lowered his hands, then leaned forward, staring at her intently.
"Did I do good?"
Cassandra raised an eyebrow.
"You always know the right words to say," she replied, taking a sip of her tea before setting the cup back down with a gentle clink.
"But the people want a face to go with those words."
Jonathan didn't respond.
He wasn't listening.
His eyes were locked on the teacup.
Cassandra watched him. "Jonathan?"
Still, he stared—fixated on the delicate porcelain, wondering absently what tea from the Kiramman estate might taste like.
Would it be smooth? Bitter? Did wealth make it sweeter?
Cassandra sighed, then leaned forward, positioning her face directly in front of her cup.
"Jonathan?"
He blinked. "That is my name," he said, returning to focus. Then he pointed at her. "What are you doing leaning on the table?"
Cassandra sat back with a groan.
"You weren't paying attention. You were staring at the table," she said, rubbing her lower back. "Which is very unprofessional of you."
"Well, I am from the Undercity, after all," he muttered.
Cassandra nodded slowly. "That, I can tell." She studied him. "Did you even hear what I told you?"
Jonathan shook his head slowly, then nodded quickly.
"Something about... the people wanting a face to go with the achievements?"
Cassandra took another sip of tea.
"What happened to you?" she asked, setting the cup down gently. "You used to attend events. All of them."
"Uh... I…" Jonathan's eyes drifted again.
He pointed at the teacup. "Did you finish that?"
Cassandra followed his gaze.
"You spaced out... for tea?"
Her expression shifted slightly as she put the dots together.
Jonathan stepped closer to the table.
"I like tea. A lot."
He stepped back and looked at her.
She raised a brow.
"You like tea… that's weird."
Then, without breaking eye contact, she picked up the cup, drank the rest, and set it down with a light clink.
"There. No distractions."
Jonathan gave a strained grin.
"I went to events to get connections."
Cassandra studied him.
"You could get more now."
He shook his head.
"You just want me to be another golden boy like Jayce."
He tapped the side of his head.
"I'm not a pretty face for a paper."
Cassandra gave a quiet sigh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"You've made your point." She picked up the empty teacup and handed it to him.
"Here. The cup you wanted so badly."
Jonathan took it with a small smile.
"You know what you're doing."
Cassandra tilted her head.
"And what exactly am I doing?"
Jonathan clapped his hands once.
"Good talk."
And with that, he turned and left the room.
———————————
He stepped out into the hall, sighing as he held the tea cup in one hand.
Was that racist… or just classist? he wondered.
Then, aloud, in a dry mutter:
"Now I've got a tea cup. Yay?"
He headed down the stairs, ready to leave—only to pause halfway down when he saw Caitlyn at the bottom.
She smiled.
"Hi, Doc."
Jonathan groaned.
"I told you not to call me that."
Caitlyn glanced at the cup in his hands and smirked.
"Whatever. What's with the tea cup?"
He held it up like it was some kind of prize.
"I got it as a gift? You want it?"
Caitlyn shook her head and started up the stairs.
"Come on. We need to talk."
Jonathan frowned and followed.
"Usually when people say that, it means something bad."
"Who knows? It might be good," Caitlyn muttered, leading the way.
He followed, clutching the tea cup.
—————————
– Caitlyn's Room –
Caitlyn stepped inside, and Jonathan followed close behind.
She peeked back out into the hallway, checking both sides before gently shutting the door. A quiet sigh escaped her.
Jonathan raised the tea cup to his eye, inspecting it like a jeweler.
"It's not a bad tea cup, actually."
Caitlyn walked over, snatched the cup from his hands, and tossed it onto the bed.
"You need to focus."
Jonathan blinked.
"What? Focuson what?"
She hesitated.
"Focus on… me," she said softly.
Jonathan squinted at her.
"…Oh."
His eyes widened.
"OH!"
"Shh." Caitlyn quickly covered his mouth.
Without hesitation, Jonathan licked her hand.
"Ah!" Caitlyn recoiled, wiping it on her pants. "Disgusting—"
Jonathan put a finger to his lips.
"Shhh."
Caitlyn blushed, still rubbing her hand on her pants.
"You licked my hand," she muttered.
Jonathan raised his other hand like he was swearing an oath.
"In all 14,000,605 possible outcomes, licking your hand was the only one I survived."
Caitlyn blinked.
"Survived? You could've just, I don't know… used your hand to take mine off your mouth?"
.
.
.
They both smiled, the tension lightening.
Jonathan brought his palms together, tilting his head.
"So what did you mean by 'focus on you'? I need to be sure."
A blush crept back onto Caitlyn's face.
"It's probably what you're already thinking…"
She looked down, then back up.
"We've known each other for a couple years now, and I'm always… in the back of my mind… thinking about us being something more."
She covered her mouth, eyes dropping again.
"Like a couple?" Jonathan asked, watching her closely.
Caitlyn looked up and nodded.
"Yeah… like a couple."
Jonathan stared at her for a moment, silent. Then—without a word—his skin flushed a soft, noticeable pink.
Not just his face. His entire body.
Caitlyn's eyes widened in disbelief.
"What is wrong with you?"
"Why are you pink?"
——————————
I love blue.