The smoke-filled air of The Last Drop was thick with the scent of liquor and tobacco, the dull hum of conversation, and the occasional brawl breaking out between drunk patrons. The neon lights barely cut through the haze, casting everything in a dim green and purple, occasionally blue and red glow that felt both comforting and dangerous. Sevika sat at the far end of the establishment, her mechanical arm half concealed by the red cape draped over it resting casually on the table, a bottle of liquor in front of her. This was her domain—no Silco looming over her here, just the familiar chaos of Zaun's underworld. It was a place where she could unwind, smoke, drink, and gamble, all without being interrupted by the demands of the world outside.

The newcomer entered, a stark contrast to the usual crowd. They came from Piltover, hanging around with the boy savior and standing out like a sore thumb in a place like this. It wasn't the first time they'd ventured down to the depths of Zaun, but there was something about tonight that felt different. The unmistakable pulse of 'Arabella' by Arctic Monkeys echoed through the bar, setting a languid, hypnotic mood, the lyrics drifting through the smoke like a shared secret. Sevika's focus never wavered. She wasn't easily distracted, but something about the way they walked into the room caught her attention that night.

The occasional glance Sevika gave in their direction rapidly turned into something more intense—a stare, sharp and curious. Sevika couldn't place it. Was it intrigue, or just the alcohol? No, she was not even close to being drunk yet... But there was something in the way they moved, something that made Sevika want to see just how deep they could go into this world of outcasts.

It didn't take long for them to make their move, surprisingly. The boldness was evident as they approached Sevika, cutting through the haze and making their soft presence known. With a slight tilt of her head and a slow drag from her cigarette, Sevika looked up at them, waiting, calculating.

"Can I have one of those?" Their voice was steady, but there was an underlying curiosity—an unspoken question hidden in the ask. A dare, even. The words hung between them, thick and heavy, as Sevika took a slow breath and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"Bold," she muttered, flicking the ash from her cigarette with a practiced hand. Her voice, rough like gravel, carried the weight of a challenge. "Most people wouldn't even think of asking me for one."

She studied their face for a moment, gauging their reaction. The silence stretched, thick with tension, before Sevika finally slid the cigarette across the table toward them.