Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Caitlyn comes to bleary, confused, and feeling like there’s a jackhammer going on the inside of her skull. She has to take a second to process the world around her. Last night is a blur of rainbow-hued alcohol and laughter, heavy whiskey smell and warm wooden counters. Pilties can never hold their liquor. Someone’s voice and Caitlyn can’t quite remember who, but she remembers the little angry twist, her hand around a glass. Top me off.

She pulls herself hazily into the present. She’s not in her bed, but it’s a rough kind of comfortable. Couch cushions, red and overstuffed. Quilts, heavy blankets, the feeling of knotted yarn against her arm–

Ah. She knows where she is. No one knits as badly as Jayce does. The last sensation to click into place is something cool and damp against her cheek, and she fumbles a little, reaching up, and blindly closes her hand around the water glass.

She can't string thoughts together with her head pounding, so instead of thinking, she sits up, which is a mistake. The room swims.

"Oh shit.” She mutters, screwing her eyes shut. “What happened?”

“You got absolutely wasted," Jayce says, "At a warlock bar."

Despite the words, he sounds fairly amused, so Caitlyn just sips the water and waves a dismissive hand at him. "A bunch of people went. The Last Drop is fine for practitioners. Spare me the lecture on that part, at least."

"No no, I think you misunderstand." She can hear Jayce grinning. "I'm not questioning why you got drunk at a warlock bar. I'm questioning why you got drunk at a warlock bar."

A memory or two comes back. Tattooed elbows against a counter, the flash of a cocky smile. Sure you’re okay, cupcake?

Caitlyn blushes, trying to bat that memory away like a sagging balloon.

"The bartender kept betting me that I couldn't handle another.” She sighs. “And I couldn't. But I didn't want to admit it."

Jayce raises his eyebrows. "You go in for tall broad-chested older men now?"

Caitlyn squints and rubs her forehead. "What?" A picture re-assembles in her mind. Tall, broad-chested, black t-shirt and a silver-brushed beard. Vander. "Oh. No. But I go in for the daughters of tall broad-chested older men."

Jayce wolf-whistles. "What was she like?"

Describing Vi is impossible because her aura and how she carries herself are a significant part of the appeal, but Caitlyn tries anyway.

"Shorter than me, but basically all women are. Short pink hair. Shoulders to die for. Tattoo on her face, which I didn't think I'd be into, but here we are."

"Pink hair? didn't think you were into pretty princess types."

It takes everything in Caitlyn's power not to blanch at Vi being called a princess. There could not be a worse assessment.

"She's-- I think I'd be the princess, frankly." Caitlyn winces, head throbbing. How many did she have?

Jayce laughs at her obvious distress. The sound grates her ears and she half-heartedly shoves a hand in his face to stop the noise. Jayce just catches her wrists, gently swinging her arms a little as he prompts her again.

“Tell me more. The bartender refused to gossip about stupid shit you said drunk."

"Good man," Caitlyn snorts. "I don't know what you want to know. Vi looks like she could give you a run for your money lifting weights. Follow-up questions?" Jayce always has follow-up questions.

"Did you just meet her tonight?"

"Learned her name tonight. I've been buying drinks from her for weeks." Probably a pathetic admission, but it's the truth, and anyway, Jayce is the last person on earth who’d actually judge. He’d done a thousand times more embarrassing things for significantly stupider reasons.

"I did notice you'd been drinking more. Your mother would be ashamed." Jayce grins, since they both know that's a compliment.

Caitlyn groans. "Yeah. I've got it bad. I smoked a cigarette in front of her last weekend because I thought it would look cool."

"Did you choke and embarrass yourself horribly?"

Caitlyn sets the glass down decidedly on the coffee table before she hangs her head and buries her face in her hands, which has Jayce laughing before she’s even answered the question, the smug bastard. She massages her sore temples with her fingers.

"I'd never had a cigarette before, Jayce."

Jayce pats her shoulder.

"Well, I mean, that's for the best. Don't smoke. I don't want to find out what the health board thinks is a good lung cancer treatment these days. It might be new lungs."

"I can't smoke even if I wanted to. I almost died. That one cigarette almost killed me." Caitlyn raises an eyebrow thoughtfully and picks her glass up again to take another drink of water, absentmindedly clapping her hand briefly over the one Jayce has on her shoulder.

"Actually, maybe that would have been for the best. Mom would have hated it."

Jayce just looks amused, squeezing her shoulder before he lets go.

“Not that I'm suggesting you smoke, but since when do you care what your mother hates?"

"Oh, to be clear, it would have been a funny way to go because Mom would have hated it. I have no interest in doing anything that pleases her."

Jayce nods, sagely. "Ah. Gotcha. You see, for a second there I thought you were being reasonable and avoiding dying in a way that I would be obligated to mock you for at your funeral."

Caitlyn smiles and leans forward to prop her chin in her hand, hair falling in her face. It doesn't matter how miserable her body is; Jayce can always make her laugh.

"Thanks for picking me up, by the way. I assume I called you? The whole night is fuzzy."

"You did not." Jayce’s eyes are glinting in a way that usually means trouble. "Big, broad-chested bartender did, so thanks for that view. It was my personal pleasure."

"Vander called you?"

Jayce hums a confirmation, and Caitlyn drinks the rest of the water before sighing again. "My already non-existent street cred is now subterranean. Is it too early to start drinking again?"

Jayce makes a show of checking his watch. "You know, I think 10 am might be a little early, unless you've become such a hard drinker that hair of the dog is your choice in hangover cure."

"I thought you had class, Jayce. You've never heard of a mimosa? A bellini?" Thinking about alcohol actually makes Caitlyn nauseous, so she asks, "What did you get up to last night?"

Jayce glances back up at her and sticks his tongue out before he says--"I've got class for days, but I also don't drink so much at a warlock bar that I need to drink first thing in the morning. That being said. I've got bloody mary mix."

Caitlyn notes that he didn’t answer the question, but that’s Jayce. Her mistake, really, sentence had too many component parts for him to grab them all. She considers the bloody mary offer. She does not like bloody marys. However.

“Will you drink them with me? If you drink with me, it's fun. If you don't, it's even more sad."

Jayce, bless him, shrugs. "I'll drink with you. I had a stupid night, anyway."

"Cheers," Caitlyn says preemptively, standing up and making her way to Jayce's kitchen, padding on her bare feet. The dress she’s wearing feels too tight around her waist, itchy from having rubbed her skin all night. The floor is cold, and it soothes her hangover a little. There’s something grounding about it, the chill and the crevasses between the tiles.

Jayce starts getting things out of his icebox. Caitlyn notes that he once again isn't using the silver mechanical fridge next to it, and the microwave's door looks like it was blasted off its hinges.

"Still fussing with technology, despite everyone's recommendations to the contrary?"

"I managed to power it with an electrical spell for an entire minute this time," Jayce says cheerfully. "It's hard to get the force right."

"What are you going to do when you actually do manage to get it right?" Caitlyn pulls glasses down from the cabinet. "Do you have olives?"

"I have the perfectly reasonable expectation that I'm going to revolutionize how we interact with mortal technology and change the world," Jayce says loftily, and then hands her the olives. Caitlyn smiles to herself; Jayce never has been one for dreaming small.

She spears two olives onto one toothpick and does the same with a second. "More exciting than what I've been doing lately. I still can't quite sharpen a knife without warping its integrity. I don't even want to work with knives, but it's on the final exam."

Jayce glances down at his counter. "--Why do they want you to work with knives, anyway? Do you even carry a knife on patrol? Are we giving cops swords now?"

Caitlyn follows his gaze to the counter and grimaces. There's a sigil burned into it. If she knows Jayce- and she does, of course- he's cast the same spell on a paper on top of it so many times it's warped into the granite.

"Good luck getting your deposit back.” She quips, and then continues, “I don't know, regarding the knife. I mean, I do know, actually. I just hate it. It's something about how we'll work up to transforming mundane objects into weapons in case we ever find ourselves defenseless in a bad situation."

"You gonna be brawling with a vampire in a grocery store aisle and need to transmute a soup can into a knife?" Jayce asks, dryly, and then pauses to consider. "Well, that's not transmutation, I guess. That wouldn't even be hard."

"That wouldn't even be hard," Caitlyn mocks. "We aren't all geniuses, you know. Celery? I don't love celery, but it's supposed to be in a bloody mary, so."

"I've got celery. It's a finishing touch; let me finish mixing. Anyway, listen, a soup can is metal. All you need to do is flatten it and boom, knife."

Talking to Jayce is difficult, sometimes. He has trouble conceiving of people having trouble doing things that are simple to him, and Caitlyn doesn't want to argue, so instead, she steps away from the glasses to let him finish the drinks. "Can I shower here after we're done with the drinks? I think I still smell like the bar." She knows she still smells like the bar, in fact. Given that she can still smell. The bar. Jayce is at least polite enough not to mention it.

"Yeah, of course. Mi casa, you know the rest." He mixes the drinks and puts celery in each, and she doesn't wait for Jayce to pick up his own glass before she sweeps her cup off the counter and into her hand, taking a swig and instantly regretting it as it burns into her throat. She coughs. "Strong."

"You're a hard drinker now, apparently, you can handle it."

In a tone that would mortify Caitlyn if Vi heard her use it, she says, "For her, I'll be anything."

"Yikes," Jayce deadpans, and Caitlyn halfheartedly swats at his arm.

"I'm actually very thankful that she wasn't there when you picked me up. I'm sure I would have been even sloppier than I already was."

"Some of the other people I assume you went with were being rowdy, so maybe she had to go beat up one of your classmates. That'd be funny."

Who even went? Caitlyn can't remember exactly, but it was a significant number of her classmates.

"Probably." She leans against the counter. "Actually I hope that archaeology major was mouthing off to her. He makes sigil script unbearable. I'll propose on the spot if she broke his nose."

Jayce pauses, and then frowns. "--Ezreal?"

Caitlyn frowns back. "You know Ezreal?"

"Yeah, I tutor him. I'm the TA for Basic Thermodynamics."

Eyebrows raised, Caitlyn raises her glass, grimacing in sympathy. "Sorry to hear that."

Jayce sighs and clinks his glass to hers. "He is an annoying little bastard. If he weren't so pathetic, I think I'd have taught him about potential energy by punting him out a window by now."

"I think my problem is that he's a downright lethal cocktail of smarmy, obnoxious, and pitiful." Caitlyn drinks again. "This really is strong. How much vodka is in this?"

"Who can count?" Jayce says. "You could always consider drinking slowly."

"Probably, but then I'd have to think about how much I don't actually like bloody marys."

"You have terrible taste. This girl's probably ugly, if your taste is this bad."

Caitlyn starts to roll her eyes but then brightens. "Wait. Come with me tonight. You can see how not-ugly she is and also ogle her dad some more."

The hangover that she has almost forgotten rears its head as she suggests it, and she presses the heel of her hand gingerly to her temple.

"--Or we can go next weekend. When I've had time to recover. Or during the week. Or whenever you can stop blowing up microwaves."

Jayce snorts at Caitlyn's instant regret. "Yeah, not today, I don't think. I guess I can peer-review your taste in women. You sure you're not too much of a prude to go during the week? What on earth would Mrs. Kiramman think-"

Caitlyn lightly pats Jayce's chest. "When you see this woman, you will understand just how far I am beyond worrying about what Cassandra Kiramman thinks."

Jayce snorts and takes another long swig of his drink. "You know, I'm glad we're past that phase you had in high school where you refused to introduce your crushes to me."

Caitlyn smiles, because even when Jayce is insufferable, her life is better with him in it. "You have to understand what it did to my ego, having you around and trying to get women to notice me."

Jayce grins at her and winks. "I apologize for my charisma and devilish charms."

She rolls her eyes. "I'm rich. You're good-looking and charismatic,” She deadpans, “Together, we're the complete package."

"You're pretty; don't be self-deprecating. Consider me a good litmus test.” Jayce makes a gesture with his bloody mary wide enough that it’s immediately obvious that his cup has just as much vodka in it as hers does, and he’s handling it worse. “If you take me to meet her and she doesn't check me out, she's a lesbian. Easy."

"You do have your uses, I guess." Caitlyn winks and downs the rest of her drink, cringing at all the vodka in the bottom. "I'll mix next time. Shit."

"You don't think things through, do you?" Jayce deadpans, like he isn't the commander in chief of not thinking things through.

"Don't you have a microwave to play electrician on?" Caitlyn puts her glass in the sink gingerly, trying not to let it clink too loudly. "I'm going to go shower, I think."

"Yeah, go ahead. You smell like booze and misery. There's a box in my closet if you wanna see if my last hookup left clothes here in your size."

Caitlyn snorts. "Thanks. Did she have good taste at least?"

"She stole my favorite band t-shirt, so yes."

Caitlyn barks out a laugh and heads towards the bathroom. There's no hangover that a shower can't help.

"Well, go on, then!" Jayce calls behind her. "Just try to wash away the embarrassment of needing to call your future father-in-law for a ride."

Jayce can be annoying, but at least he’s never boring.

Chapter Text

The door to Jayce's apartment swings open while he’s picking up a pair of his pants from between the cushions of the couch, Caitlyn letting herself in with her key.

"Hey!” she chirps. “I brought your... well. I brought that girl's clothes with me."

"Yeah, not my anything," Jayce says, folding the pants over his arm and frowning at them. They’re wrinkled, which is inevitable but extremely irritating. "Hey, how the fuck do warlocks dress these days? I know I'm gonna look like a practitioner no matter what but how casual do they go? Like mundane clothes?" As much as he hates admitting to being out of touch, he hadn’t exactly been dressing to fit in on his trips to the undercity as an underclassman.

"Mundane is the way to go.” Caitlyn gestures at her own black crop-top and high waisted shorts. She’s showing off a lot of skin, probably for the benefit of Pinky the Bartender, but Jayce is going to graciously let that pass unmocked. “You don't have anything... I don't know. Patchwork-chic?” she asks. “That's kind of the style."

Jayce grimaces. "–ah, no, mending spells were like. The very first magic I learned. But I can go mundane."

He has a decent set of t-shirts for when he left Piltover Academy grounds to buy tech, since apparently corsets had been out of style for a couple centuries. Which was a damn shame, in his opinion; he made those look good.

Caitlyn tosses Jayce the bag and he catches it one-handed.

"How long until you're ready?” she asks, “And are we portaling?"

"I don't think we should portal to the undercity no matter how safe this bar is," Jayce says, making a face. Learned that lesson the hard way. "You never know if something's fucky with the landing. I'll be ready as soon as I change and shoot a note to Sera that she can come pick up her shit while I'm gone."

Caitlyn nods. "That's fine. We should probably leave sooner rather than later, then. You trust her not to trash your place if you aren't here, or were both parties in understanding that it was a one night stand?"

"Both, it was a not entirely sober decision based on convenience, and she's kind of a softie. I don't think she's got it in her to trash my house." Jayce heads to his room, calling over his shoulder. "–you know I might have some kinda ripped jeans. That's better, right?"

"The more trashed the better, probably!"

"I can do trashy."

"And you'll look better than me doing it, as always," Cait calls, voice muffled through the door as he closes it, and Jayce grins, dropping his coat and his vest. A spell sweeps his dirty laundry off the floor as he tosses it loosely towards the rune he has on the laundry bin to attract cloth.

"Your gracious acceptance of the silver medal is appreciated, as always,” he answers, surveying his wardrobe as he unbuttons his shirt. It’s separated into two sides and he begrudgingly ignores his jewel tones and corsets for t-shirts and jeans. “Do you think anyone's going to know mundane bands? Which bands am I going to get mocked for?"

"No Fall Out Boy! You'll get laughed out of the bar."

Jayce puts the Folie à Deux shirt he’d just picked up back on the shelf and eyes the one next to it.

"Probably not The Killers either, huh."

"Can maybe get away with The Killers. Use your own discretion, I guess."

Jayce sighs. "I'm just gonna go Styx."

"Sounds good!" Caitlyn calls, tone a forced upbeat that makes Jayce cringe a little, but he gets dressed anyway. He pulls on a shirt with an old fashioned movie theater up in lights over his head with just a bit of difficulty – he’d really bulked up since the last time he went shopping in the city – and sticks his head out of the room.

"I heard that tone."

"Nope!" Caitlyn's voice squeaks, looking just as guilty as she’d sounded. She clears her throat and amends, "We don't have time anyway; we should really get going."

Jayce sighs, but he pulls his head back into the room and pulls on black ripped up jeans before he can overthink it. He gets on mundane socks ( why are they always so short) and laces on his usual boots – heavy, steel toed – because he’s not an idiot. They’ve got a few of his sigils carved into the heels with a pen knife. "Alright, I'm ready."

Caitlyn smiles at him as he comes back out, looking relieved, so he can’t look too stupid. "Okay. Let's go."

"After you," Jayce says, making a dramatic little flourish at the door.

"Do I have to wear a helmet?" She wrinkles her nose. "It'll mess up my hair."

Jayce eyes Caitlyn’s twisted updo with a critical eye. It’s not neat, exactly, but it’s a kind of precisely-messy. Aesthetically messy. He’s pretty sure it’d be easy for her to re-do.

"We're not pretending not to be practitioners, right? I've got a sigil you can wear on a hairclip carved." He offers, and Caitlyn's smile returns.

"Perfect!" She pulls the clip from the back of her head and holds it out, hair falling out of place.

Jayce takes it and pulls out a sticker on a clear sheet of adhesive- it's actually fairly attractive, gold ink, solid work if he says so himself. He’d had a productive trip to the printers the last time he’d popped into the city and managed not to fry any fuse boxes. He sticks it carefully onto the clip and then hands it back.

Caitlyn twists her hair back up in the clip with a practiced motion. "Ready?"

"Ready." Jayce nabs his necklace off the side table on his way out the door and tucks it under his shirt, an afterthought. Better safe than sorry.

Jayce has his bike ready- he knows it makes Caitlyn nervous, so frankly the less fucking with it he has to do the better. She doesn’t hesitate as she climbs on the back, and Jayce sticks a sigil he has on a keychain into a port on the front of the cycle and mutters the right words as he activates it. The motorcycle backfires a few times, the steam surging through it before it boils and swirls to life, tearing through the fused-on blocks of the steam engine, and Jayce kicks off and shoots forward before Cait can get too nervous. She's a second too late wrapping her arms around Jayce's waist, but the bike doesn't throw her– he’d secured the seat to be pretty stable. She pulls herself tight to Jayce's back, almost knocking the wind out of him with how tight she’s holding on.

"Coward!" He calls over his shoulder, good humored, the wind almost whipping the words away as he winds down the curling streets of the Piltover Academy Grounds, the stone academic buildings and campus stores watching over the streets.

Caitlyn nods into his back. "I'll concede defeat this once!"

"The safety rune's really good, I promise."

It has to be, since the road out of town gets bumpier by the second. Zaun is academy grounds by technicality– If a warding spell is set off next to a ravine, it’s going to drop into the ravine. The old carved-out tunnels down into the undercity are probably a hazard, and the pavement is cracked, but his wheels fly over them like they’re not touching the ground at all. Probably because they aren’t, exactly.

Cait huffs a breath against his back, and he can feel her lift her head as they enter the tunnels and the lights change to long blurs along the walls. "Yeah. I know. I trust you, against all good reason."

"I've earned it, haven't I?" His tone’s light, but the question’s genuine. He gives Cait a lot of shit, but he tries to be there for her when it counts. She doesn’t indulge his need for reassurance, squeezing his waist and jabbing her fingers into his side.

"Depends on what conversation you and Vander had last weekend."

Jayce snorts, pushing down the little flare of insecure worry. He’s grateful she can’t see his expression, and he just curls his fingers around the handlebars and focuses on feeling out the road. "I was so nice, Cait. I thought he probably went for nice."

Caitlyn laughs, the wind whipping the sound away. "Guess you'll find out tonight."

"Save that laugh for when I strike out!"

"It's better if you do. I don't need you to be both my brother and father-in-law."

Jayce grins. "Well I don't have to marry him. There's a world of possibility."

He can feel Caitlyn cringe against his back, and that cheers him up a bit. "Are we there yet?" she calls, as they come out of the tunnel and shoot down the main drag of Zaun’s cobbled street.

"Almost! Brace yourself."

Jayce pulls the brakes and they skid to a halt, a little roughly before coming to a stop against the curb. He does his best to make it gentle, but Caitlyn scrambles off as fast as she can, wobbling a little bit.

"Did you really never go here as an undergrad?" she asks, looking up at the soft gold neon sign for The Last Drop. It casts a halo on the street, warm and safe. Everything else for blocks is poisonous greens and reds. The music spilling out onto the street is harsh and metallic, sounding exactly like Zaun looks.

"Oh, I did. A few times. Never when I could get out of it; I hate people." Jayce knows that Caitlyn knows that isn't quite true, but is an easy enough shorthand for I hate having to be fake around people. This is the only place in the undercity that Pilties can go in groups and the freshman like to try it, pretending that they’re playing risky. It’s a farce, of course – they’d ever leave the circle of safety promised by the pool of golden light. The shallows.

"Yeah, but you're here with me, so it'll be fun." Caitlyn nudges him, pulling him out of his reverie, and winks. If there's anyone that he doesn't have to pretend around, it's her.

Jayce smiles a little. "Alright," he says, pulling the sigil loose from the bike and rolling it over to a spot next to a few others like it before he wraps a lock around the wheel. "Try not to get so smashed you can't ride with me home? At least portaling is easier in the other direction."

"I'll do my best," Caitlyn says, which isn't a promise. Jayce takes that in stride, sighing.

"Yeah I'm gonna draw up that portaling rune when we sit down. Remind me." He adjusts his shirt, already kind of regretting his choice. It’s a little cold, a subterranean chill. The thermally regulated streets of the academy do nothing for the temperature down here; he can’t even see the sky above them.

Caitlyn hands the tabby yordle bouncer her ID and waits. Jayce knows it's a fake, but she’s been coming for months, and the bouncer hands it back without so much as a word, striding through the door and turning on her heel to wait for Jayce just inside.

The bouncer takes twice as long checking Jayce's ID and Jayce looks up at Cait through the door frame, grinning a bit.

"Do I have a baby face?" he asks.

The bouncer looks at Jayce skeptically, annoyed, and Caitlyn calls, "He's okay. He's with me. You can throw us both out if he's trouble."

The bouncer accepts that and lets Jayce pass with one last annoyed look.

"Seriously," he mutters, as he falls in next to her. "What did I do?"

"Looked too good for this place, probably." Caitlyn’s not looking at him as she strides into the shadows and towards the bar. Her eyes scan the room, and she looks a little disappointed. Must not be finding the people she’s looking for.

"You think I should try to grime up?" Jayce says, looking down at himself, trying to be dramatic about it and distract her.

Caitlyn waves a dismissive hand. "It won't matter. You're too pretty anyway."

"Excuse you. I'm the perfect amount of pretty."

Caitlyn laughs, which he takes as encouragement, and bellies up to the bar.

"Two Ohmwreckers, please."

The bartender mixes the drinks without comment, and Jayce looks away from Cait to look around, curiously. "Hasn't changed much since I was an undergrad."

The bar is dark, but everything inside is perfectly visible. Jarred wisps are hung in the corners and throughout the room in a grid pattern. They're clearly enchanted, throwing more light than they should but simultaneously dim enough for a Zaunite dive. Jayce couldn't guess who in here is mundane or magic, but Caitlyn had had the right of it on clothing. Whether by design or by necessity, everyone here is fashionably patched together.

Caitlyn pulls him back to the conversation he started. "Now, granted I haven't been to many bars, but do they usually change a lot in a few years? You're not that old." She takes a drink of electric green liquid and glittering blue crystals.

"Really gonna deny me the opportunity to walk in somewhere and go, Ah good to see the old place hasn't changed,'" Jayce deadpans. "You fun-ruiner."

Jayce is mostly surprised that they've managed to maintain the same aesthetic, given how often things in here got broken. Someone had destroyed a table at least twice a week when he’d come here. He wonders how often they replace the furniture, or the jarred wisps. Those tended to explode with a certain degree of... collateral damage.

"You want to be old?” Caitlyn teases. “Everything about you says that you want the exact opposite."

"I want an old soul." Jayce says, loftily.

"You want to have an old soul or you want to sleep with an old soul? Those things aren't the same." Caitlyn tips back the drink again, eyes still scanning the bar, and she doesn’t give Jayce a chance to tease her about it before she voices her thoughts herself. "She's worked every other weekend I've been here. I'm going to be devastated if she isn't in today."

"I'll never let you live it down," Jayce jokes, and then gently kicks Caitlyn's leg with his foot. "Relax. I'm sure she's in."

"Don't act like you actually came to see her. I know you're only here for her dad.”

"A man can have multiple motivations!" Jayce says cheerfully. Really he’s just here to support her, but he’d rather cut off his pinky than admit that. Or at least repeat his transmutation finals. Basically the same experience, but at least he’d gotten his pinky finger back after the exam.

As if speaking of him summons him, Vander emerges from the back with a wash rag in hand and a tray full of clean cups. When he notices Caitlyn and Jayce, Vander laughs, putting the glasses in storage overhead. "Brought the chaperone with you this time so I don't have to call him to pick you up?" he asks Cait, and she blushes and stirs her drink, sheepish.

"I guess."

Jayce grins. "Actually, I just missed the place," he says, "Been a couple years since I had the time to come by."

Vander scrutinizes Jayce. Jayce knows how he looks: rich Piltie practitioner that used to slum it and has more or less grown out of the habit. He’s got a topside aura. But he gives his best easygoing I-am-stupid-and-won’t-cause-problems grin, and Vander smiles back. "Good to see you back, then."

"Full disclosure that that's probably also as long as it's been since I've drunk," Jayce says, winking. "So we'll see about the chaperoning. And nothing hits like this stuff even if I had."

Ohmwreckers are legendary, or if they aren't, they should be.

"I really do feel invincible after a couple. Vi won't tell me what's in them, but I wish I could have a vial of it in my pocket all the time, just in case," Caitlyn says, laughing.

"Good to see that Vi isn't spilling my secrets yet, at least,” Vander says, bemused, “Be careful with these, though." He nods at Jayce in agreement. "You're right that there's not much that hits harder than these."

"I can take it," Jayce says confidently, even though he absolutely can't. He kicks Cait under the table to tell her that he also knows he's full of shit and she should by no means rat him out. "Speaking of Vi," he says, "Cait was just telling me that your daughter could be a fair challenge in an arm wrestling match and I take that as a point of pride. Is she in tonight?"

He feels Caitlyn tense next to him, and he sees Vander notice it too, but if there’s anything he could always count on, it’s Vander’s good nature.

"Vi's here," he says, cleaning a glass and giving Caitlyn a reassuring grin. Flirting with him aside, that’s what Jayce has always liked about Vander. The man was smart. There was a glint he got in his eye sometimes that reminded Jayce a little bit of the other guys in the theurgy program when they got on a roll. "She was due back from her break five minutes ago, actually. Thanks for the reminder."

Vander disappears into the back again, and Caitlyn hisses, "Jayce." "You miss all the shots you don't take, Ms. Sharpshooter," Jayce teases under his breath.

Caitlyn swallows hard and downs the rest of the drink in one long swig. "You're killing me."

"I'm wingmanning. You brought me, I'm wingmanning."

"A mistake, is what bringing you was."

Jayce uncaps a sharpie and holds it up threateningly. "Don't make me confetti you."

"If you do this to me right after you sent Vander to go get Vi, I will never forgive you," she says, plucking the sharpie and cap from his fingers. She caps the marker and shoves it in her pocket.

"You do that like I don't have twelve more–" Jayce teases, reaching into his pants pocket to grab another one, but then the door behind the bar swings open. Vi, or he assumes it’s Vi from the hair, comes out before Vander, face lighting up a little at the sight of Caitlyn. "Hey, cupcake. Welcome back."

Jayce notes with satisfaction that Vi doesn’t even seem to notice him, so he takes a second to scope her out as Caitlyn grins next to him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Hi,” Cait says.

Yeah, she’s got it bad.

"Cupcake?" Jayce murmurs under his breath, hiding his grin in his glass, and Caitlyn kicks his ankle hard.

He can see why she’d snorted at the description of Vi as a princess. Vi is built, tattooed, and he’d have assumed she was bad-tempered from the set of her jaw and the scars on her knuckles like she punches first and asks questions later, but she looks downright dumbstruck at the sight of Caitlyn.

Vander steps out next to Vi and puts a hand on her shoulder, saying, "Make sure you cut her off earlier than I did last weekend. She hasn't changed my opinion on whether or not Pilties can handle their liquor."

"Yes, boss," Vi jokes, clapping her hand back over Vander's.

Vander opens his mouth to speak, an affectionate look in his eyes, but it disappears at the sound of shattering glass on the other side of the bar.

"I'm going to handle that. Yell if you need me," he says, following rising voices towards what seems like a fight that's about to break out. Caitlyn knits her brow, craning her neck to try to get a better look, but she seems to give up quickly and turns to Vi while Jayce is still peering into the shadows.

"Can I get a Spellbinder? He's buying this round," she says, nodding her head towards Jayce.

"I am?" Jayce asks, absent-minded. He’s trying to remember if he can fire off a vision enhancement spell that won’t instantly blind him when he turns back to look at the bar. Maybe if he added an adjustment loop to the outside–

"Sorry, pretty boy, regulars make the rules." Vi quips.

Caitlyn nudges him, disrupting his train of thought. "I bought the first round. You thought you weren't buying second?"

"No, that's fine, traditionally, you just ask– wait, pretty boy?"

He turns back to Vi, a little indignant, Vi just kind of gestures at him. It’s clear from the disinterest in her expression that she meant it more as a measure of objective reality than a compliment.

"I told you you were too pretty to blend in down here," Caitlyn says, "Also, have I ever asked you for anything in my life?"

"You ask me to pass the potatoes at your mother's gala dinners," Jayce says. He hopes his tone sounds present, but the fight is distracting him. There’s a few flashes of green, which means someone is throwing magic around, and he can’t– quite figure out the spell. If he enhanced his vision and someone threw a flash that would be it–

"I would like to die somewhere other than my parents' house, so I concede that I ask you to pass the potatoes when my mother is around. If she so much as sensed that I was thinking about being rude, it would mark the end of me," Caitlyn deadpans. He appreciates when she repeats information, because he had absolutely forgotten everything he’d just said. He makes a little that's-fair kind of head gesture. Maybe just a hot and cold magic sensor? To figure out when things start getting–

"So, siblings?" Vi asks, looking amused, as she pours two liquors together and they turn blue with a visible whoosh of sparks.

"Um." It's a fair question, and one that's been asked numerous times. Neither of them are ever quite sure how to answer, but Cait takes a valiant stab at it. "In every way that matters, yes."

"What's the mundane joke?" Jayce asks, looking back over with a charming grin, mostly just relieved she hadn’t asked if they were dating. "Sister from another mister?"

Vi looks disproportionately amused. "How would I know?"

"Fair enough."

Caitlyn groans. "Awful. I should never have invited you."

Of course, the fucking minute that Jayce takes his eyes off of the mess there's an unintelligible shout, voices rising, and then Vander’s stands out above the others and the sound of breaking glass. "Out! This isn't welcome in my bar!"

Jayce twists around again.There’s a fluctuating red current that licks up into the air, like an aurora or gathering electricity between clouds, and it looks nasty. Whatever that is, it’s angry, and Jayce hears Vi hiss out a breath.

He turns back around. "Does he need–"

"Not from you, Piltie. Give it a minute, someone else'll handle it." Vi doesn’t look like she believes her own words, and Jayce twists around again as crashes escalate. The red light condenses and then ignites into fire so hot it’s almost blue. It curls into figures in the air, almost hitting the ceiling and just barely not nailing a light as it hangs suspended like a mobile, like shadows climbing the walls disconnected from their source. Jayce has seen a warlock lose control before. This is not managed.

He twists back in his seat as Caitlyn stammers out, "Are you sure, Vi? It looks like things are getting dangerous over there..."

"Look, the last thing we need is– what are you doing?"

Jayce ignores Vi, his notebook out and flicking out a sharpie through his fingers, popping the cap off as he runs the symbols in his head. He knows this one– he could write it blind, could write it missing fingers, could write it in his sleep. It’s the first advanced course they taught him at the academy, the one the drink in front of him is named for. Spellbinding.

"Don't you blow up this bar, Jayce Talis," Caitlyn warns. "If I brought you here and you blow up this bar, I'll never forgive you."

"I'm not gonna blow up this bar,” Jayce says, already on the second layer of the circle, “I've done this spell so many times that if I fucked it they’d take my degree."

Vi chews her lip, but there’s another crash and in Jayce’s peripheral vision he can see her look up and behind him, can see the stressed tug in her face.

"Do it, then," she says, and Jayce breathes deep before activating the rune, putting his palm on it and pressing. Come here. He draws in power like a funnel, and the fire flickers out, the heat surging through the room like rivers as it flows into the paper between his fingers. Come here, and go.

Spirits are finicky things. They're all power, sometimes a single emotion or two, and despite the fact that he doesn't interface with them the way warlocks do, they still affect him. He can feel hate in the way the power rips through the air, the electricity igniting as everything swirls above him, fighting his pull before it yields and rips down into the rune.

The clouds snap out of existence with one final crackle of power as the last of the spirits stops fighting and yields, and then there's absolute, perfect silence in the bar. With the magic gone and everyone staring at them, Caitlyn breaks the silence after catching her breath.

"I can't take you anywhere," she says.

Jayce grins, involuntary, absolutely knowing without turning around that he’s just made an enemy of absolutely every person in this bar.

"I'm getting the vibe that I'm about to get beat up," he says with the confidence of someone who knows that feeling. Vi makes a well face.

"We should... probably get out of here?" Caitlyn puts a hand on Jayce's arm and directs the question at Vi.

"Yeah, you're gonna wanna go." She says. "Sorry, cupcake."

Caitlyn nods rapidly and stands, just dragging Jayce up.

"I'll be back soon. Sorry for bringing Jayce. All he does is cause problems."

Vi looks apologetic. “Catch you soon,” she says.

Jayce sets his jaw and ignores the little swell of hurt, because Caitlyn’s right. Despite the necessity of his actions, she’s right.

"Tell your dad I'm sorry," he says, and then bee-lines towards the exit.

Chapter Text

"So we're both in agreement that that wasn't actually my fault, right?"

Caitlyn tries not to sigh audibly at Jayce, because that would hurt his feelings, as she steps off the bike with wobbly legs. There's a cocktail of anxiety and stress topping off the booze from the bar. Shaken, not stirred. "Yes and no?"

"I mean what else could I have done?” Jayce says, leaning against the handlebars for a second before he gets off the bike. “Nothing?"

They're both aware that Jayce could, in fact, have done nothing, but that's not really an option for him. Caitlyn loves that about him, most of the time, but it’s just as likely to get him in trouble as it is to save the day.

Shrugging, she gives him a sympathetic look. "I don't know. I'm glad you helped out Vander. I just hope we didn't accidentally make things worse." Caitlyn hadn't really done much of anything, but it was her fault Jayce was there in the first place.

"They were about to burn the fucking bar down," Jayce mumbles, sounding sulky. He’s glaring into the dark– the streetlights have turned down so you can’t make out more than a block in any direction. It’s peaceful, quiet, comfortable familiarity like cotton bedsheets.

"I'm not the enemy, Jayce." Caitlyn's eyes sag; it can't be that late, but she's exhausted. "I forget how strong you are, sometimes. It's always a surprise to see you in action."

"I know you're not. I'm just saying– It's hard to be much worse than. No bar.” Jayce eyes her, and she can see it on his face that he knows how tired she is. “You staying over?"

"If it's not too much trouble." Caitlyn rubs at her left eyelid and sighs as a black smudge comes off on her hand. She doesn't wear makeup very often, so it's easy to forget about it when she does.

"You know I never mind your company." He hops off the bike and mutters a spell under his breath, pressing a palm down onto the seat. The bike compresses and folds into the air and into a bag the same smudged red as the seat, and Jayce just scoops it off the ground and tucks it under his arm.

Caitlyn smiles despite the quick negative turn that the evening took. "We can watch a movie or something, if you want."

"You wanna see one of my latest experiments?" Jayce asks, grinning.

How can she say no, especially after how crestfallen he's looked since they left The Last Drop? She wouldn't want to say no, anyway. Everything Jayce has ever made is incredible, even if his research often blows up in his face. Caitlyn nods. "Obviously."

Jayce leads his way up to the apartment. “–all magic, this time,” he says, and then pauses. "...90%."

"Why would it be all magic when it could be even more dangerous?" Caitlyn snorts.

"Look, do you want to watch Mamma Mia or not?" Jayce ribs, lightly. "Mundane means you get mundie movies–”

Caitlyn inhales stalwartly. "If that's the price I must pay to watch Mamma Mia, then I will pay it."

"I've got this one,” he says, confidently, as he unlocks the door. "I took a projector and ripped all the mechanical and electrical parts out of it and replaced it with magic. I have a film roll. This one wasn't one of my experiments, promise."

Caitlyn settles in on the sofa and trusts that he's telling the truth. For as much of a risk-taker as he is, Jayce is still nothing short of downright brilliant. "Just for fun, of course. Not an experiment."

"A small price to pay to watch Mamma Mia," Jayce says and produces a projector that's heavily carved with runes. He runs his thumb along the side of it as he holds it up and then lets it go. It hangs suspended in the air, just locked in place, and then Jayce switches it on and it starts to whir, the tape rolling to play through ads.

Once the movie starts, they won't have a chance to talk, but the ads give a window with a definitive end time. "Are you okay?" Caitlyn asks.

Jayce sighs. "–I don't know."

Caitlyn chews her lip. "I don't know if it was the right thing to do, but I also don't know what better options you had. You had to do something. You said it yourself."

"It was escalating."

"It was," Caitlyn concedes. He looks too much like a kicked puppy for her to continue; the conversation is having the opposite of her intended effect and apparently making him feel worse. She elbows him in the ribs. "You had to do it. If the place had burned down and killed Vander, you never would have gotten to sleep with him."

He perks up a little. "And neither would anyone else, which would frankly have deprived the community."

Caitlyn raises an imaginary glass. "A loss for those who love men everywhere."

Jayce pretends to clink his against it.

She and Jayce have watched this movie a dozen times easily. It’s white noise that’s easy to doze off to. Even though Caitlyn tries to resist the impulse (Jayce can be ruthless with a marker when he wants to be), it’s difficult. The Ohmwreckers have run their course, and what she is left with now is the fatigue that follows a few drinks.

Her senses are dulled, and with Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! playing, she can’t hear anything else. But Jayce sits up, peeling himself off of the sofa with apparent effort. He looks around the room, brow furrowed, and after a second he asks--

“Did you hear that?”

Caitlyn stops, but all she can hear is the crooning of the movie, colors casting on the walls and on Jayce’s face as someone sings,

“Gimme gimme gimme--”

“Hear what?” She’s hardly awake. Even her view of Jayce is a little blurry behind her eyelids.

And then suddenly, he’s not. He’s in sharp, pristine clarity, as a rope of fire curls into the apartment, lighting everything in red and orange.

Caitlyn yanks herself out of sleep, not tired anymore, only a second behind Jayce as he springs up.

“What the fuck–”

The window where the fire came from just melts, and through the frame comes a blond man outfitted in heavily patched reds and blacks. Zaunite clothing. He raises his hands and sparks ignite in his palms, lighting up strange patterned gloves. Caitlyn can’t do anything; she’s not close enough, and she instinctively looks to Jayce.

Jayce has a marker out and against his arm but he’s not nearly fast enough; the spell he’s casting is too complicated, and Caitlyn isn’t about to watch him get incinerated. “Marker up!” she shouts, not wanting him to have to start over, and thankfully, he listens. Caitlyn shoves him out of the way and tumbles after him as she does.

She rolls to the side as gracefully as she can while flames lick at the air where they had stood only moments before, and Jayce comes up a little more roughly. Everything will be fine, Caitlyn reminds herself. Jayce is a genius. He just needs to bind the warlock and everything will be fine. He knows what he’s doing; everything will be fine. He finishes the sigil on his arm, half-kneeling on the ground, and presses his palm to it. Caitlyn can’t help a premature sigh of relief, bracing herself for the same wind that had ripped through the bar, the same force of magic.

And nothing happens.

The man chuckles, voice low. “When will Pilties learn not to fuck with Zaun?”

Caitlyn thinks, distantly, that this would be a lot more terrifying with a different soundtrack.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight

Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away--”

Jayce blanches and nausea rises in Caitlyn’s stomach as the man advances. Jayce frantically draws another sigil, scrambling to his feet. He throws up a wall of water, the apartment filling with steam as fire lashes around it, and Caitlyn knows she should get up and try to help, but she can’t move, can’t think. Her mind is blank. Every sigil she’s ever learned has dissipated from her mind after watching Jayce’s binding fail.

“Take me through the darkness to the break of the day,”

Jayce takes a step back and makes a valiant attempt to encase the man in ice, pieces of it shattering away and water splattering everywhere. His feet are planted, he’s determined, and despite his magic, they are both going to die.

...But she doesn’t need magic. A man is still a man, even if he can’t be bound.

Caitlyn sprints for the end table next to the couch, grabbing the lamp that stands on it and barreling towards the intruder. He’s focused on Jayce, who keeps firing off the same ice shard spell at him, doing nothing except filling the room with steam, but that’s fine. That’s cover. And cover is all she needs to lunge across the room and slam the lamp upside the intruder’s head.

There’s a crack as it connects, ceramic on skull, and the man’s fire evaporates and Jayce’s water drops harmlessly to the floor.

The man’s knees buckle and he hits the ground with a dull thud. The projector is still humming, bright colors and the start of another dance number, but there's blood dripping from the lamp Caitlyn is holding in her hands and a limp body on the floor between her and Jayce.

She meets Jayce's eyes, mouth open in panic and disbelief, and says, "Shit."

Jayce is breathing hard, and then he manages, "Wow, the anti-damage spell on that projector really held up–"

"Jayce!" Caitlyn hisses, "This is not the time to write the observation part of a paper!"

"Look at it, though!" Jayce says, gesturing at the projector, and then at the nearly incinerated couch and other smashed furniture. "I must have hit it point-blank at least twice–"

"Yeah. The projector looks great," Caitlyn says, almost hysterical. The rest of the apartment is destroyed, even if the projector has survived. Broken glass litters the floor and there are scorch marks on every wall.

She prods the body with her foot, bracing herself, but it doesn't move. Her throat tightens. "Did I... kill him?"

"I doubt it," Jayce says. "Head injuries aren't like the– movies.”

Caitlyn almost startles when the music starts up again, and Jayce hisses out a breath. “Shit, I should. Turn this off."

When the sounds of Mamma Mia abruptly go silent, Caitlyn's fingers loosen on the lamp and her legs begin to shake. She sits on the charred couch, unable to tear her eyes from the intruder. Swallowing hard, she starts to say something, but any words she might have spoken are superseded by streetlights flaring outside, and she cuts herself off. Usually, she admires the Piltover enforcer’s approach to reducing crime. Usually, she appreciates the bright flaring of the streetlights when a crime is reported. This is not a usual day.

"Shit," Jayce says, "I need to hide the microwave."

Caitlyn stands again and puts a hand on each of Jayce's shoulders, shaking him just slightly. "Enforcers are on the way. And there is a body on the floor in here. What do we do?"

"Cait, there's a body on the floor and I have illegal tech," Jayce says, sounding mildly hysterical himself. "Help me hide the microwave."

Caitlyn makes a distressed noise and fists her hands in her hair. "Can you just–" She forces herself to take a deep breath. She can panic later. Jayce needs her to be calm right now. "I'll help you. I'm helping. Get a warping sigil ready. Is it just the microwave that you need out of here?"

"I– Fridge. it's less illegal. But still a little illegal. Warping sigil. I can do a warp–" His hands are shaking, and he bolts over to his kitchenette as he calls over his shoulder--

"I'll need help with the fridge, but I can get the microwave first." Caitlyn follows him as the lights outside pulse again, wrapping the cord around her arm and heaving the microwave into the center of the room.

Jayce pulls a sharpie out, a little frantically, and just leans down to draw a big circle directly onto the floor, wide enough to hold the microwave.

"Breathe, please," Caitlyn says, trying to be patient despite the feeling of impending doom bearing down on her. She stands next to the fridge, waiting for help and not wanting to rush him but feeling panic pricking at her edges.

"Where do I send it?” Jayce asks.

There isn't another option, though it’s a one-way trip to expulsion if she’s found out with technology on campus. She takes a deep breath. "My dorm."

"Got it," Jayce says, and then activates the sigil. The microwave disappears in a little burst of light, and then he scrambles up. "We're gonna need to lift the fridge instead of dragging it so we can set it down in the center without disturbing any of the lettering."

Caitlyn nods and crouches down, trying to lift with her back, but she's never been particularly strong. She grunts with effort, thankful when Jayce shoulders much more than half of the burden.

"Watch your feet if you can," Jayce says, sounding more focused. Caitlyn doesn’t have to be told twice, stepping lightly to avoid stepping onto the sigil and fucking up gods-know-what. "Okay,” Jayce mutters, half to himself, “Moving it, and– there."

Caitlyn steps back with a sigh of relief as the fridge also zaps out of the room. Jayce seems a little calmer now, and she says, "Okay. What about the... guy?"

"–I mean, it was self-defense," Jayce says, sounding a little stressed again, pressing his fist to his mouth. "It was clearly self-defense, right?"

Caitlyn nods, mouth dry. "Yeah. I mean, it was. That's not a lie. And you said yourself that he's probably not even dead."

"I don't think he's dead!" Jayce says. "–did we…" He takes a breath. "Did we do anything– I don't remember academy regulations on magic. I don't remember. You took the intro class more recently, did we do anything–?"

Caitlyn blinks, her mind veritably blank. "I didn't do much of anything, and I– if I'm being honest, I don't exactly remember what you did. Everything but the most basic fire spells are heavily regulated, but I think he was the one casting fire. And you didn't modify him or transmute or transform anything about him, right?"

"I didn't," Jayce says, "And I didn't use fire. I used– water and ice, since he was using fire. I don't think those are illegal?"

Caitlyn shakes her head. "I don't think they are either." A knock rattles on the door, which is somehow still intact, and every muscle in Caitlyn's body tenses.

"Oh thank the gods!" Jayce says, loud and so artificial that it would be funny were the situation not dire. He grabs a towel and quickly splashes it with a spell, drops it on the floor, and starts scrubbing the transportation rune away with his foot. "Cait, can you get the door? I think the police are finally here!"

Typical. Though if Caitlyn splits hairs, it does make sense for a Kiramman to be the one who answers the door. Her name has gotten Jayce out of trouble before. She works her way to the door slowly, giving Jayce as much time as she can before opening it.

When she sees Grayson on the other side, she doesn't know if they're cursed or lucky. "S-Sheriff. We were just getting ready to send you a message."

Grayson doesn't look impressed, but she does soften a bit at the sight of Caitlyn.

"I thought I had better come myself when I saw the address. May I come in?"

Caitlyn’s name makes her famous, and Jayce’s proximity to her family does the same for him. She nods and steps to the side, rubbing her arms. "There was..." Her voice shakes. "Sorry. I'm still pretty shaken."

Grayson surveys the scene, the body on the floor, with an impartial aura. She reaches up to pat Caitlyn's shoulder.

"Why don't you sit down?"

Caitlyn has already sat down on the sofa once. Hopefully doing so a second time won't cause it to collapse. "Everything's kind of a blur. We were just talking and then I heard a window shatter and then he was just... here. Throwing spells around. It wasn't like anything I'd ever seen."

Grayson makes a thoughtful noise and then bends, pressing two fingers to the man’s neck.

"How did you take him down? I know Mr. Talis is very talented, but he's no soldier."

"I–" This is incriminating, if Grayson decides she didn't act in self-defense, but there's no point lying. The unconscious body speaks for itself. Caitlyn points to the bloody lamp. "I hit him. Hard."

Grayson looks at the lamp and then nods before handcuffing the unconscious body with twisted black manacles. Caitlyn distantly recognizes the binding from intro. Those would put anyone on their ass.

"Good thinking," she says. Caitlyn breathes a sigh of relief and chances a glance at Jayce. They really haven't done anything wrong, but the optics couldn't be worse. They're lucky it was Grayson. Jayce surreptitiously kicks the towel away and comes over to sit on the arm of the couch next to Caitlyn, which makes a miserable noise before its feet break. Grayson looks unimpressed.

"–You are going to have to give me the specifics of the magic you used on site, Mr. Talis," she says.

"Of course," he answers.

She sighs. "Are either of you hurt?"

Caitlyn has not actually taken inventory but she shakes her head. "No. Not physically, at least. I'll probably have a hard time falling asleep for a few days, minimum."

"I believe that's inevitable," Grayson says. "You ought to take care of yourselves. This apartment is now a crime scene and I will need to more formally follow up with both of you later, but given the hour... Do you have somewhere else to go to get some rest?"

Caitlyn is so relieved that they haven't been asked to immediately come in for questioning that she nods and says, "Yes," without actually stopping to figure out if they do.

"Yeah, we'll get out of your hair. Can I– get clothes?" Jayce asks, and Grayson nods.

"Go on and get your things."

Jayce scampers off to get his things and Grayson looks at Caitlyn with mild amusement and says, "You'd get in trouble less often in better company."

Caitlyn's cheeks pinken. She's unwilling to say that what happened tonight was probably at least half her fault for dragging Jayce to an undercity bar in the first place. Instead, she says, "Maybe. But I'd be a lot more bored."

"If you end up with a record it may be harder to become an enforcer. Do keep that in mind."

Caitlyn's mouth goes dry, but the lie comes easier than usual, probably because she's protecting Jayce with it, too. "We didn't do anything wrong, ma'am. Honestly."

"Good," Grayson says, brushing off her hands and standing, and before she can say anything else, Jayce bundles out with a bag over his shoulders. He's smiling like he hasn't heard anything, which almost certainly means that he did.

"Thank you for coming, again, Sheriff," he says. "Let us know if you need anything else."

When they step outside into the cold night air, leaving Grayson behind them in Jayce's more or less destroyed apartment, Caitlyn asks,

"Do we actually have anywhere to go? There's my dorm, I guess, but there won't be much room there with your stuff. It'll work if we don't have another option, though."

They could also go to the Kiramman manor, but even the idea of it makes Caitlyn want to fidget with anxiety. That's a last option for if they decide that even her dorm isn't suitable.

“–There's always my house," Jayce says, a little hesitantly.

"It's–" The idea of going to Ximena’s is much more enticing than her own parents' home. "It's up to you. We can make the dorm work if you don't want to bother your mom. And it's probably a good idea to make sure all of your stuff made the trip okay."

"Who do you think I am? Of course it made it fine," Jayce says, but he's frowning, like it's bothering him now.

"I wasn't insulting you–”

"No, I know. Dammit, okay, I think we have to check now."

Caitlyn nods. "Okay. We can decide if we want to stay there after. Let's go."

The streetlamps are on as they should be, but the night feels dark.