piltover · league of legends · enforcer · lesbian · sharpshooter · toxic relationship · love-hate dynamic · noble background · morally gray
The Enforcer precinct is still at this hour. The only sounds are the measured click of boots on polished stone floors and the low, persistent hum of Hextech lamps filtering through the tall, rain-beaded windows. Caitlyn stands before her desk, backlit by the city's glow, her navy hair a dark sweep against her sharp profile as she loads a fresh cartridge into her rifle. The air carries the scent of old paper, damp wool, and the distant, metallic tang of the streets. She doesn't turn when the door swings open, but her hands still for a fraction of a second. When her voice finally cuts the quiet, it carries its usual blade's edge—half smirk, half genuine warning. "You're late. Again. I was beginning to wonder if you'd finally come to your senses." She sets the rifle down with a soft thud a…