Ill Omen's Light (Lux/Jinx)

Chapter 5: Enter the Cupcake

And she'd chosen Cait.

Nearly a year, now. It's been hard on her.

It sat in the corner of her eye. The plain brown cover, just like all the rest, a file that had long sat untouched in its special place in Caitlyn's desk drawer, until...

She'll hate me for this.

She didn't dare look at it. Not with Vi's eager smile hovering there. Trusting her.

No, she won't. She'll understand.

She covered her subterfuge with a distracting bite of a cupcake and brushed icing from her gloves upon a napkin.

I... can't. I can't do it to her. Not like this. Not until I know.

The cold in her chest clawed deeper as Caitlyn discreetly slipped the file to the bottom of the stack.

I just need time to be certain.

"I'm working on it, Vi," she said, finishing the cupcake and meeting her partner's look with a smile she hoped wasn't readably forced, "Be patient with me. I'll have something for you soon, I pro-"

-xcuse me! comin' throu-a commotion downstairs intruded into the moment-ust gotta let me talk to-

Both women glanced to the large stairwell leading to the top floor office, and the shouts and commotion emerging from below.

"Hm," said Vi, "That sounds like something."

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes and quickly took another long gulp of coffee, then passed the mug to Vi, who finished it off with a chug as someone came flying up the stairs in a rush, apologizing profusely, and tailing four blue-coated officers snatching in vain for the intruder.

"Sorry-comin'-through-gotta-see-Piltover's finest-!" the young blonde man slammed his hands down on her desk, making the cupcake plate rattle and tipping over one of the delicacies to squish on its side, "Caitlyn! I need to talk to you!"

The office stopped quiet, everyone staring at the interloper who'd had the audacity to just run straight up to the Sheriff's desk.

"Huh," said Vi, "Look who it is."

Caitlyn's brow arched as she looked up at the panicked, panting face hovering over her desk.

"Ezreal," she said, without much humor, "That shall be Sheriff Kiramman if you please."

Ezreal rolled his eyes and puffed, catching his breath, "Look, sorry Cait, I-"

"Hey there," Vi stepped into his space and laid a calloused hand on the youth's shoulder. "If it ain't Piltover's Most Punchable Face."

Ezreal flicked his gaze to that hand. Vi's hand wraps were clean and made of fine Piltovan linen these days, but at this proximity he still saw faded bloodstains around the knuckles that not even Piltovan machine laundromats could wash out.

Ezreal doubted the blood had been hers.

"That's police brutality, Vi."

She chuckled. "Chill it, kid, how many times have I ever actually punched you?"

"Three times!"

"...without a good reason?"

"Okay, none," he drooped, "...got me there."

"See? I'm a good cop after all," Vi said with a flash of a grin, "You're just an asshole. With sticky fingers. Speakin' of," she picked up the fallen cupcake and pushed it into his hand, "Eat this and calm your ass down."