LOVES ME NOT

"No."

Shauna Vayne's gutteral growl was only partially muffled by the door separating the bathroom from the rest of the champion's hall, but it was still more than loud enough to carry through the rest of the women's side.

"You can't stay in there forever." Sivir noted logically.

"Watch me."

It was odd to have the normally taciturn Night Hunter behaving in such a sullen, childish manner. Clearly, Caitlyn had missed something in her late arrival to the Fields of Justice today. She poked the nearest girl on the shoulder, who happened to be Ashe, and asked, "What's going on?"

The Frost Queen of the Freljord turned her head, her expression grim. "Vayne got ambushed by Laitwell as she entered the hall this morning."

Caitlyn winced. "Oh dear."

Grand Summoner Laitwell actually did very little summoning for the Institute of War at this point in his career. Instead, he had become the Institute's unofficial official "costume designer" for the various champions; sometimes deciding that the outfits they normally wore weren't quite good enough for the popularity of the league. And heavens save you if he got his hands on your equipment.

Summoners could then insist their chosen champion wear the outfits Laitwell designed. It wasn't always received well. And by that, Caitlyn meant rarely and with some mild violence. Runes knew what Laitwell had forced Vayne into wearing.

Caitlyn pushed her way through the small gathering of women. While the Sheriff of Piltover would have a hard time saying she was a friend of Vayne's (or that anyone could make that claim), she liked to think she had a professional respect of sorts for the Night Hunter, and that the feelings were reciprocated. Perhaps she could get to the bottom of this.

Once she had made it to the door, Caitlyn tapped on the door. "Vayne. It's me. What did Laitwell push on you?"

"Something that I will never wear in public, or even in private, for that matter." Vayne grumbled, although it was hard to tell considering Vayne's voice normally had a gravelly tone to it. "And that is final."

"Vayne, dear... you do realize that the summoners can yank you from anywhere right onto the Rift, right? Even if you're in that bathroom." Caitlyn reminded. "People are going to see what you're wearing whether you like it or not."

"Then maybe this abortion to decency will paralyze my enemies with laughter." Vayne retorted glumly. "It'll be the easiest pentakill in the history of the League of Legends."

"I'm sure it's not that bad." Caitlyn said, calling on all of her practiced empathy that came from years as a lawman. "Remember when Laitwell made me that obscene policewoman outfit? Summoners still make me wear that tawdry thing."

"This is worse." Vayne declared. "Much worse. At least your gun still looked like a gun after he was done modifying it."

"Vayne, At least get out of the bathroom." Caitlyn stated, her voice slightly turning stern. "If you want to hide after you're out, that's your business. But I'm sure there are some of us out here who would like to relieve themselves."

There was a silence that could have either been resignation or consternation. Fortunately the former turned out to be true, as the lock to the bathroom door clicked free and the door opened.

"Fine. Go ahead and laugh." Vayne snarled. "Get it over with. Get it out of your systems before you remember that I know where each and every one of you sleep."

Caitlyn did her damnedest not to. She really did. But there was no fighting back that one regretfully mirthful snort that escaped her throat before she could slap her hand over her mouth. Many others didn't even try to hold back, as varied tones of laughter filtered through the assembled ladies, from polite giggles to outright bawdy howls.

Laitwell had made a handful of reasonably decent and even lovely outfits for the Lunar Festival, so Caitlyn had held hope that Vayne had been exaggerating. The Night Hunter, however, was not. The outfit was awful. It looked like someone had dumped a box of melted candy canes into Janna's wardrobe. The normally sullen and dark Vayne was now gussied up in red hearts, pink stripes, shimmering silk, and white wings. Her shaded glasses were gone, replaced by a gaudy flared red pair that revealed Vayne's amber colored eyes.

"Oh no..." Caitlyn whimpered. "He got your crossbow too?"

"Both of them." Vayne held up her right arm, where her wrist mounted crossbow was, now ivory in color, sporting red tipped flanges and a shimmering heart right in the center. The larger crossbow on her back was also decorated with hearts and wings, along with the siege bolt arrowhead shaped into another large red heart.

"And he got his hand on your arrows too... oh dear..." Caitlyn moaned in sympathy when Vayne retrieved one of her smaller bolts, fletched with red feathers and also tipped with heart shaped arrowheads. "Oh no... I am so sorry." Caitlyn embraced the Night Hunter; the permitted contact demonstrating how traumatized Vayne was.

"A wonderful commemoration to Valentine's Day, he said." Vayne whimpered, her voice trembling, the poor thing overwhelmed by the humiliation she was suffering. But fortunately, the laughter from the crowd died down as many of them remembered they had suffered themselves at the hands of the nefarious (and perhaps colorblind) Grand Summoner Laitwell.

"Well... dear... if it means anything..." Caitlyn began nervously, "This actually isn't the worst outfit Laitwell has made." The sheriff gestured to the crowd, pointing towards Akali. "Remember when he made Akali wear that nurse outfit into the field?"

Akali's expression went dark, almost having managed to forget that a summoner had her wear that obscene uniform just last week. "Next time Laitwell asks for me... I'm just gonna start knifin'." She grumbled bitterly.

"Or what about Nidalee's maid outfit?" Caitlyn then noted.

That caused the huntress to wince. "Twisted Fate wanted sponge bath. Wanted to hurt him. Bad. But couldn't. Was on my team."

Caitlyn snapped her fingers, and added, "And what about that leaf headdress he made for Karma? What was that supposed to be about?"

"He mumbled something about 'sun goddesses' and walked off." Karma droned. "And it wasn't just the headdress. The top was made of leaves too. For the record, people don't make bras out of leaves for a reason. They chafe."

"Lux, remember that 'sorceress' costume he made for you?" Poppy said with a teasing grin.

"Hey! That was pretty cute!" Lux replied defensively, then turned bright red. "At least, until I discovered the skirt was so short, and the panties so sheer, that any Yordle got an eyeful just by looking up..."

"And what an eyeful it was." Poppy joked.

"It's gotten so bad that if we don't walk into the Fields wearing next to nothing, that bastard Laitwell stiches up some barely-there costume for us." Ashe snarled. She had been spared from the worst of Laitwell's designs, although she had this sneaking dread it was only a matter of time. "The pervert has it out for us women... just waiting for the opportunity to humiliate us."

Tristana tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I dunno. He's made up some pretty shameful outfits for the guys too. Remember that 'Armor of the Fifth Age' he had crafted for Taric? What had possessed him to think that was a good idea?"

Caitlyn did remember, in fact. All to keenly. "I recall that rather backfired though."

"I don't understand." Taric answered. He seemed genuinely confused. "Pink is a color of power in my homeland."

Perhaps it was the complete lack of shame. Perhaps it was the very... alien... manner Taric always carried himself with. Perhaps it was his voice that always seemed a bit too even and calm. Perhaps it was the fact that he was petting a white bunny rabbit and had been calling it all manner of cutesy names like "Mister Hoppers" moments before. But all Caitlyn could process was there was something really off about that man.

"Sure it is." The Sheriff of Piltover remarked with snarky disbelief, turning about and making all haste towards somewhere else. That was one name that wasn't ever going to make her list. Ever.

Irelia found herself wanting to be a part of the conversation, her voice catching the assembly's ears. "And who remembers that 'Santa Gragas' debacle?"

No one at the party could agree on the exact details of that night, as the beer had been flowing quite liberally by the point Gragas had emerged sporting Laitwell's holiday influenced creation. But what every single person could agree on was what happened next...

Gragas had literally jumped onto the stage, causing the entire dais to shake from the impact of his girth. The red and white wool jacket he had been given clearly hadn't been made large enough, because the brewer's gut bulged from the bottom of the jacket and the top of his pants, jiggling like a bowl full of gelatin when he dropped down onto the ornate chair.

With a lewd grin, he released a noxious ear splitting belch, and patted his right knee. "Alright ladies, who wants to sit in Santa's lap?"

A cold chill dashed through the women in the hall, all of them cringing at the memory. Katerina, of all people, dropped to her knees and wailed, "Dark abyss, why can't I unsee? Why did you have to remind me?"

"Oh... and what about 'Ruthless Pantheon'?" Leona said with a roll of her eyes. "He didn't take to that one terribly well."

The Rakkor warrior didn't exactly wear excessive amounts of clothing to begin with, so no one figured it was the amount of exposed skin that bothered him. But he was quite furious, and made no attempt to hide it with his body language or tone of voice.

He pointed his spear angrily at Leona, the 'traitor' of the Rakkor, and thus not exactly high on his list of friends, and growled, "I swear upon the sun you find holy; you ask me if I have the power, and I am going to carve out a second anus for you."

"And let's not forget the decorative headpeice Laitwell made for Kog'Maw to celebrate the Lunar New Year." Poppy added. "You want to talk about ill advised... how many of the Institute's interns and assistants did Kog'Maw eat before they could even get the damn thing on? Ten? Fifteen?"

Caitlyn abruptly remembered she was supposed to be comforting Vayne, dropping an arm over the Night Hunter's shoulders. "Point is, when you think about it... these are all just the ideas that get Institute approval. Imagine how horrible the rejected ones are." After a pause, she added, "Remember that rejected costume he had designed for Volibear?"

Annie was certainly not afraid of wrong things. Annie committed no fewer than six wrong things before she finished dressing in the morning. But there was wrong... and there was wrong.

The Dark Child could not quite put her finger on what it was about Volibear's appearance that sent ice water down her spine, and made sweat trickle on her brow. Maybe it was the beady, soulless black eyes that never blinked. Maybe it was the hollow, never changing smile. Maybe it was the ears, unnaturally placed at the top of Volibear's head, twitching eagerly with each heaving breath from the massive ursine. Maybe it was the lack of distinguishable front paws.

Or perhaps... nay, certainly... it was the words that escaped from that wretched, unmoving mouth; words that invoked a seemingly genetic response in Annie's mind, a trigger that could have only been passed from generation to generation through the building blocks of life.

"C'mere, little girl..."

Vayne felt a single tear escape her right eye. It took a lot for her to feel empathy for another member of the League of Legends, especially one as fundamentally broken as the Dark Child. "Poor Annie. She couldn't summon Tibbers for a month without crying in fear."

Sivir heaved a heavy, forlorn sigh, and said, "Before many of you were appointed to the league, Laitwell made up this ridiculous 'Wonder Woman' outfit, as he called it, for me to wear. Damn thing looked ridiculous. Had all sorts of stupid accessories too. Like something he called the 'Lasso of Truth'. Wanted me to use it in addition to my crossblade. Thank heavens the Institute got him to drop that element to the outfit after the first trial use."

This was a story many of the ladies had not heard. Ashe however, was nodding glumly from experience. Caitlyn's investigator honed curiosity had to know. "Why? What was so bad about it?"

The league veteran leveled a steely glare in Caitlyn's direction, and said, "While it was nice to have a binding weapon, it turns out there are some truths no one should ever know."

The frantic activity that was normal for Summoner's Rift had abruptly stopped. Master Yi, in fact was frozen mid-strike, his target Jax no longer concerned at the blade hovering over his head. Ryze looked physically ill. Tryndamere was physically ill, using a nearby bush in the middle lane to evacuate the contents of his stomach. Even Warwick, the mind behind potentially hundreds of death dealing concoctions, had turned an unhealthy shade of green.

The chaotic team fight that had commanded that path through the rift just seconds ago was already forgotten, all attention focused on Sivir and Twitch, the latter wrapped at the legs by the former's rope, and a frustrated question aired over the heat of battle that had brought about a disturbingly honest answer.

"Hey!" The sewer rat bellowed in embarrassed rage, "How I go about getting my poison is no one's business but mine! Don't judge me!"

Lux squealed in disgust, and began retching violently, "Gross! He hit me with that stuff about a hundred times in a dominion match yesterday!" She wedged her way out of the group, muttering, "Now I have to bathe for a year. Excuse me."

Lux dashed into the bathroom, slammed the door shut, and locked it behind her, the sounds of running water and weeping making it through the door. Caitlyn slapped her forhead and groaned, "Oh, for heaven's sake..."

"Not all of the Laitwell's designs are bad." Janna interjected over the still traumatized group. "I've heard a rumor about one he's planning for Garen. Let's just say it amounts to small scraps of leather and leaving very little to the imagination."

Caitlyn's eyebrows raised as her mind processed the possibilities. That was a name on her list. Oh, was it a name on her list. "Hmmm... that might call for me to break out the fuzzy cuffs."

Vayne's eyes narrowed into the dark, judging expression she was infamous for. "You actually have fuzzy cuffs."

"Of course."

The Night Hunter crossed her arms and scoffed. "That respect I had for you? Gone."

Caitlyn shot back with a wry smile, and Vayne followed with a thin lipped grin of her own, awkward if only from lack of practice. The Night Hunter followed with a forlorn sigh, "But, I suppose you're right. It's not like Laitwell is specifically picking on me... I guess it was just my turn."

"And think of it this way... that thing is so horrible that not even those freaks for summoners are going to want to see you in it more than once." Caitlyn added. "Not at all like my officer costume." The sheriff let that thought die off with an irritated growl.

"So, I'm 'one of the girls' now, am I?"

Caitlyn shrugged, "For better or for worse."

"I can hardly contain my jubilation." Somehow, Vayne's deadpan delivery did not support her claim. She then whipped her head towards the window, tumbled forward, and fired one shot from her massive crossbow through the open window. A howl of pain followed, and the thunk of the body impacting with a nearby tree.

"Well, at least the aim on that thing is still good." Caitlyn noted with a whistle. "I had no idea how to adjust the sight on that contraption Laitwell gave me for the longest time." Taking a deep breath, Caitlyn prepared what was most likely a lie, "It can't really get any worse, right? How many terrible ideas could Laitwell have?"

"Riven, babe, good to see ya!"

Grand Summoner Laitwell talked like he was in his twenties, and looked like he was in his sixties. A full length beard of scraggly white hair covered his neck, which Riven suspected had only gotten there because it had migrated from the top of his head. What little remained up there had been applied to the most unappealing attempt at a comb-over the Noxian exile had ever seen.

Laitwell's assistant was a much younger man, most likely an apprentice summoner, his evident lack of interest as he leaned back in his chair telling Riven that the man was not receiving the mentoring he had been expecting. She rather felt bad for him.

"I want it to be known that I am only here because you reminded me I am contractually obligated to speak with you or any other Grand Summoner within the Institute." Riven stated. She wanted it as a matter of record that this meeting was not made of her own free will.

She might as well have not said anything, from Laitwell's response. "Good to hear it, girl! Anyway, I'm sure you've been thinking that I haven't done anything for you lately."

"No, I haven't." Riven answered darkly. She liked her clothes. She didn't like changing them, even if Laitwell's designs for her had not been nearly as bad as he had subjected others to.

Again, the exile might as well have not wasted her breath. "Well, don't worry, babe, I've been thinking about you."

"Call me 'babe' again, and I'm taking your testicles for a trophy."

Laitwell turned his back to Riven, towards a red velvet covered easel. Riven caught the eye of Laitwell's apprentice, and could see the remorse in his eyes, as well as a mouthed, "I am so sorry."

Meanwhile, the Grand Summoner had grabbed the top of the velvet cover. "I want to give you the first look at my new idea for you. Tell me what you think about..."

With that, he whipped off the velvet in a broad flourish...

"Cheerleader Riven!"

Laitwell's assistant dropped his head into his left hand, rubbed his temple, stood up, and left for the adjoining room in the suite. Riven meanwhile, blinked three times before her right eye started twitching.

Then came the screams.

Riven stormed out after four minutes and roughly thirty thousand gold worth of damage to Grand Summoner Laitwell and his property. The summoner stumbled out to the doorway, leaning against the frame, his beard even more disheveled, missing one sleeve to his robes, as well as carrying the faint smell of burning. Smoke billowed from the now open doorway as Laitwell called out cheerily, "So, is that a maybe?"

But as Riven disappeared further down the hall, even Laitwell could sense it was a lost cause. "I knew I should have proposed that to Ashe..." He mumbled. "Oh well, need to make a new prototype anyway."