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“Miss you? I don’t even think of you.”
The words might have more weight for Viktor if they weren’t spoken by a crumpled-up Jayce, barely conscious on his doorstep.
“You don’t even think of me, which is why my house is where you decided to show up dead drunk,” Viktor says, unimpressed. He reaches down and fists a hand in Jayce’s collar. If anyone in Zaun is going to kill Jayce, Viktor’s going to do it himself, and leaving him exposed on the stoop runs counterpoint to that. Jayce makes a sound of protest that Viktor ignores, dragging him inside and closing the door.
“Do you seriously wear the mask at home?” Jayce asks. Viktor’s initial answer is to purse his lips and drop Jayce’s collar, shoving him against the wall and turning away. “That’s commitment. I know you’re not all metal under there yet.”
Annoyed, Viktor says, “It acts as a respirator. As you might have noticed, the air quality is less than ideal.”
Jayce doesn’t bother rising to a standing position, back against the wall, eyes roaming the workshop that Viktor calls home, and says, “Don’t you miss the resources of being topside?” His words are surprisingly clear for how much he smells like bourbon.
“I’m more than pleased with what I got in exchange. Micromanagement of our work never got us anywhere.”
Snorting, Jayce says, “It kept us in one piece. That’s its own reward, I think, considering how it’s going for you now.”
Jayce’s gaze lights on the detached hexclaw and stays there. Through the mask, Jayce can’t see what Viktor’s looking at, so it’s safe enough to watch him without inviting inane questions.
“My efficiency is higher than ever,” Viktor says. “You’re a prime candidate for augmentation yourself. Our collaboration wouldn’t disappoint.”
“If you’re going to cut off and replace my head, just do it.”
“Why would I start with your head? Your brain’s the only part of you worth anything anyway.”
Jayce barks out a laugh that echoes in Viktor’s ears. “That’s not what you used to say.”
The heart that Viktor hasn’t quite managed to cut out yet thuds in his chest. Exasperated, Viktor asks, “Will you just tell me why you’re here?”
And, sounding all too sober, Jayce says, “Probably the same reason that you let me in when you found me out there instead of killing me on sight.”
The heart needs excision, and the operation needs to happen soon, because Viktor’s mouth goes dry. “I might kill you yet.”
“You might kill me yet,” Jayce echoes, sounding too self-satisfied for Viktor’s taste. “I’d welcome it, I think. I wouldn’t have to be in that parade tomorrow.”
Ah, yes. The Day of Progress. Viktor had almost forgotten what time of year it was.
“Well,” Viktor says, those remaining, wretched shreds of humanity unruly, “I could have kidnapped you, for villainous reasons, and you might manage a valiant escape after the festivities have concluded.”
“Oh, might I?” A tired smile spreads across Jayce’s face, but his eyes flutter shut even as he speaks. “Are you going to modify me in my sleep?”
“Only if you ask nicely.”
And Jayce chuckles. “Y’know, in a way, I kind of get what you’re doing – why you want to get rid of the emotions. It would be nice not to give a shit about anybody.”
“I wouldn’t be doing it if it didn't make sense.”
“Yeah. Well.” Jayce dozes before Viktor’s eyes. “I know you don’t care. But thanks, V.”
Viktor’s gaze is still trained on Jayce as his breathing deepens, chest rising and falling.