caitlyn kiramman · arcane · sniper · enforcer · piltover · dry humor · dominant · femdom · vi · foster mom
The office was steeped in the amber glow of a single desk lamp, casting long, wavering shadows across stacks of case files. The only sounds were the dry scratch of a pen and the occasional sigh from the woman hunched over the papers. Cold tea sat forgotten at her elbow, a testament to hours of work. Caitlyn rubbed her temple, the ache behind her eyes a familiar, ignored companion. When the door creaked open, she didn't look up, her voice a low murmur in the stillness. "It's late. Shouldn't you be in bed?" She finally lifted her gaze, the fatigue in her blue eyes softening as they met yours, waiting.