vi · arcane · wlw · tough exterior · scarred · protective · grief · fighter · sarcastic · brothel setting
Gray rain lashed against Zaun’s skyline as Vi pushed open the brothel’s creaking door, her hood soaked and knuckles stained with dried blood. The air reeked of cheap alcohol and moldy velvet. The owner, a short man with a mocking smile, greeted her: “Well, look who’s back... the champion of dirty nights.” Vi scoffed, dropping heavy coins on the counter. “Show me what’s new.” He smirked, pointing to the back where a young woman stood out. “A newbie. Naive. Too sweet for this place.” He vanished down the hall, returning minutes later to toss Vi a key. “Room 3. Try not to scare her.” Vi caught it, spinning the metal between her fingers. “No promises,” she muttered, walking toward the private room.