The next day, I found myself stepping into the dim, bustling interior of the Last Drop. The smell hit me first—spilled beer, grease, and something faintly metallic mingled with the warmth of bodies and chatter. The place was alive, rough around the edges but strangely welcoming. Mom didn't hesitate. She tied on an apron and slid behind the counter with a kind of practiced ease, flashing a quick smile at a patron as though she'd never left this world. Watching her was like seeing a puzzle piece snap into place.

I lingered at the end of the bar, unsure of what to do with myself. Vander was there, polishing a glass with a rag that looked like it had seen better days. His massive frame seemed to dominate the space, but his demeanor was calm, almost gentle. When he saw me, he gave me a warm smile.

"Morning, kid. Settling in alright?"

I nodded, shifting from foot to foot as I fiddled with the hem of my shirt. "Yeah. It's… different. But okay."

He tilted his head slightly, studying me with a knowing look. "Different can be good. Give it time."

Before I could respond, the front door slammed open with a loud bang, making me jump. A burst of energy filled the room as Vi, Powder, Claggor, and Milo came barreling in, their voices overlapping in a chaotic jumble of excitement. Powder's face lit up when she spotted me, and she waved so enthusiastically that I thought her arm might detach.

"Hi!" she chirped, bounding over like a golden retriever on a sugar rush. "We're going to the arcade! Wanna come? It's gonna be so much fun!"

"Arcade?" I asked, caught off guard.

"Yeah!" Powder grabbed my hand, already tugging me toward the door. "You can help me build stuff. I've got so many ideas!"

Vi snorted, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed, her expression a mix of irritation and boredom. "Great. Babysitting a princess. Just what I wanted to do today."

Her words hit like a slap, and I froze, staring at her as confusion and irritation bubbled in my chest. Princess? Babysitting? The nerve!

"Vi," Vander said in that calm, firm tone that could quiet a room. He set the glass down and crossed his arms, giving her a pointed look.

"What?" she said, throwing up her hands. "I'm just saying."

"Vi's right," Mom interjected, her brow furrowing as she joined the conversation. "I don't know if it's a good idea for you to go, sweetheart. You might not be able to keep up."

"Mom!" I exclaimed, whipping around to face her. "I can keep up just fine."

Vander chuckled softly, the sound rumbling like distant thunder. "Don't worry, Della. Vi will look out for her. Right, Vi?"

Vi's head snapped up, and she glared at Vander like he'd just handed her a chore list. "Uh, excuse me? I'm not a babysitter."

"Didn't sound like that when you were whining about 'princesses,'" I shot back before I could stop myself, my tone sharper than I intended.

Vi's eyes narrowed, her posture stiffening. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're acting like I'm some helpless little kid," I snapped, my face burning as I tried to keep my voice steady. "I'm not! I don't need you—or anyone—babysitting me."

Powder tugged on my arm, her voice bright and oblivious to the tension. "Come on, don't fight! It'll be fun, I promise. You can help me with my gadgets!"

Claggor and Milo exchanged amused glances, clearly enjoying the show. "I dunno, Vi," Claggor teased, leaning against a nearby table. "Looks like you're stuck with her."

"Shut up," Vi muttered, scowling at him.

Mom hesitated, her worry still evident. "I just don't want you getting hurt—"

"I'll be fine, Mom," I insisted, cutting her off. My voice softened slightly as I added, "Really. I'll be careful."

Vander stepped in before the argument could escalate further, his voice as steady as ever. "They'll be fine. Vi knows how to handle herself. And," he added, giving me a meaningful look, "I have a feeling she can handle herself too."

Vi groaned dramatically, throwing her head back. "Fine! But if she slows us down—"

"I won't," I snapped, cutting her off again.

Powder tugged on my hand harder, practically bouncing with excitement. "Then let's go! Before Milo eats all the good snacks!"

I glanced back at Mom, catching the soft smile on her face as she watched us. She gave me a small nod, though her eyes still held a hint of worry.

When I turned back, I caught Vi glaring at me from the corner of her eye. She didn't say anything, but the tension between us felt like a string stretched tight, ready to snap. Summoning all my courage, I glared right back.

Sure, she made my heart do ridiculous gymnastics when she wasn't being a complete jerk, but I wasn't about to let her treat me like some useless tagalong. Not a chance.

With Powder still pulling me, we headed out the door, the others trailing behind. Chaos was inevitable—I could feel it—but there was no turning back now.

The "arcade" was a crumbling, half-collapsed building with jagged beams sticking out like broken ribs. Scraps of metal and wiring littered the floor, and a few flickering game screens hummed faintly in the gloom, their warped lights casting eerie shadows. The smell of rust and oil was overwhelming, and the air was thick with dust that glimmered in the dim sunlight filtering through the cracks in the roof.

"This is the arcade?" I asked, stopping in the doorway, my voice tinged with disbelief. I had forgotten how ramshackle it was.

Powder, ever the optimist, bounced on her toes, her face lighting up. "Yeah! Isn't it great?"

"Great," I echoed weakly, taking in the precarious piles of junk and the dangerously sharp edges jutting out from every surface.

"What, not good enough for her highness?" Vi's voice cut through the air, dripping with sarcasm. She leaned against a rusted pillar, her arms crossed, her smirk daring me to respond.

I forced a smile, my jaw tightening. "It's… nice," I said through gritted teeth, trying to suppress the urge to point out the tetanus hazards everywhere.

Vi snorted, clearly unimpressed with my attempt at diplomacy, and shoved off the pillar. "Let me guess. Piltover too fancy for this kind of fun?"

Milo chimed in, grinning like he'd just caught a juicy secret. "I hear Piltover's got the best ones. Shiny, clean, boring."

"I wouldn't know," I said, shrugging as I stepped cautiously over a coil of exposed wires. "I never went to one."

That caught Vi off guard, and she hesitated for a moment before rolling her eyes and heading toward a battered boxing machine in the corner. "Figures."

Powder, seemingly oblivious to the tension, grabbed my hand and dragged me toward a pile of twisted metal and broken machinery. "Come on! I've been saving this stuff for weeks. I have the best idea—it's gonna be a frog, but it hops! Like, really hops. Maybe explodes, too. Or not! I'm still deciding."

The sheer excitement in her voice was infectious, and I couldn't help but smile as she dived into the junk heap, tossing pieces over her shoulder with wild abandon. I crouched down beside her, sifting through the mess and trying to keep up.

"What about this?" I asked, holding up a small spring that looked like it might disintegrate if I breathed on it too hard.

Powder's eyes widened as she snatched it from my hand. "Perfect! It's exactly what we need!"

Behind us, Vi punched the boxing machine, the loud thwack of her fist hitting the target echoing through the room. "Maybe I should've stayed home," she muttered under her breath, but loud enough for me to hear.

"Maybe you should've," I shot back without looking up, my tone sharper than I intended.

Powder giggled, glancing between us like she was enjoying some secret joke. "You two are funny. Like a cat and a dog fighting over scraps."

"More like a dog and a stray," Vi retorted, her voice cool but her lips twitching as if she was holding back a smile.

"Better than being a grumpy old hound," I muttered, focusing on a pile of gears.

Powder didn't seem to notice the exchange as she continued digging, holding up a bent piece of metal triumphantly. "This is gonna be the body! Help me put it together?"

Despite the lingering irritation bubbling under my skin, I couldn't say no to her. Powder's energy was magnetic, and before I knew it, we were deep into assembling her frog. The process was chaotic, with her narrating every decision like it was the most important thing in the world.

"This piece will be the legs—no, wait! The jumpy bits. And this," she held up a broken lightbulb, "will be its eyes! Big, glowing eyes!"

"I don't think it's gonna glow," I pointed out, trying to fit a tiny gear into place.

"It will glow," she insisted, her hands flying as she grabbed a bundle of frayed wires. "Just wait!"

Meanwhile, Milo and Claggor had started a game of their own, kicking around a half-crushed tin can like it was a makeshift soccer ball. Milo narrowly missed slamming into a precarious stack of junk, earning a warning growl from Claggor.

"Watch it, Milo! You're gonna bring the whole place down."

"Relax, Claggor," Milo replied, grinning as he flipped the can into the air with his foot. "This place has been standing for years—it's not gonna fall now."

"Yeah, famous last words," Claggor muttered.

After what felt like an hour of trial and error—and a lot of Powder's overexcited commentary—we finally managed to assemble a crude, clunky frog. It was ugly in the most endearing way, with its mismatched legs and crooked body, but when Powder wound the makeshift spring, it hopped.

The frog's first leap was a success, but the second sent it careening into a wall, where it promptly fell apart in a shower of tiny pieces.

Powder clapped her hands, her laughter echoing through the arcade. "Did you see that? It worked! For, like, two seconds, but it worked! You're the best helper ever!"

I couldn't help but laugh with her, my earlier frustration melting away as I watched her beam with pride. "It was all you, Powder. I just followed orders."

From the corner, Vi let out an exaggerated groan. "Great. Now we've got a cheer squad for Powder's junk toys."

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Vi," I shot back, smirking as I picked up a stray gear.

Vi's smirk deepened as she leaned casually against the boxing machine, her eyes fixed on me like a hawk sizing up its prey. "Keep talking, princess," she said, her voice dripping with mockery. But there was something in her tone—less venom, more challenge—that made my stomach twist. For a brief, flickering moment, I thought I saw the faintest hint of a smile tug at her lips.

Vi shot me another jab from across the room as i helped Powder collect the decapitated frog. "Wow, look at that. The princess actually gets her hands dirty. Who knew?"

I turned sharply toward her, glaring. "What is your problem?"

Vi shrugged, leaning lazily against a busted arcade cabinet, her arms crossed. "I don't have a problem. Just calling it like I see it."

I took a step closer, my voice rising. "I haven't done anything to you. Why are you so—"

"Annoyed?" she cut in, her smirk widening. "Because you don't belong here."

Her words hit harder than I wanted to admit, but I refused to let it show. "Who says I don't?" I shot back, crossing my arms.

"Me," Vi said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Powder tugged at my sleeve, her small hand trembling. "Don't fight," she whispered, her wide eyes darting nervously between us. But it was too late to stop.

"I'm trying to be nice, but you're just… impossible!" I snapped, my voice shaking with frustration.

"And you're just a spoiled kid who doesn't know anything about Zaun," Vi countered, pushing off the cabinet and taking a step toward me. Her voice was steady, but there was fire in her eyes.

I stepped forward too, refusing to back down. "I know it's full of overemotional, angry teenage girls who are absolutely mean for no reason!" I shot back, my words sharp and fast.

Vi barked out a humorless laugh. "Oh no, did I hurt your feelings, princess? Hold on—maybe we can find you a little bow to make it all better."

The words stung, but what stung more was the way she said them—like she already knew she'd won. My mind scrambled for a retort, but all I managed was, "That doesn't even make sense! Where do you get your insults from, the worms under your pillow?"

The moment the words left my mouth, I winced. Even Powder gave me a confused look. Vi stared at me for half a second, her expression unreadable, before she doubled over laughing.

"Oh, wow," she said between laughs, wiping a tear from her eye. "That's rich. Worms under my pillow? That's the best you've got?"

My cheeks burned as Vi straightened up, still chuckling. "Guess they don't teach comebacks in Piltover."

"Why do you care where I'm from?" I shot back, my voice rising again. "It's not like I chose to come here!"

"Exactly!" Vi snapped, her laughter vanishing as quickly as it came. "You don't belong here. You don't get it, and you never will."

"Then let me prove I do!" I shouted, my fists clenched at my sides. "Or are you just scared someone might actually do something better than you for once?"

Vi's eyes narrowed, and she took another step forward, the air between us charged with tension. "You've got a big mouth for someone who doesn't know what they're talking about."

"Try me," I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them. My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure Vi could hear it.

"Girls!" Vander's voice boomed from the doorway, freezing us both in place. He stepped inside, his massive frame filling the room, and fixed us with a stern glare. "What in the hell is going on here?"

"She started it!" Vi and I shouted in unison, pointing at each other.

"Of course she did," Vi added, crossing her arms. "She's been on my case since we got here."

"Because you're insufferable!" I shot back, throwing my hands in the air.

"Enough," Vander said firmly, holding up a hand. His voice was calm but carried an unmistakable authority that silenced us instantly. "Vi, I don't care what you think of her. You don't get to treat her like this."

Vi looked away, her jaw tight. "She doesn't belong here," she muttered.

"That's not for you to decide," Vander said. He turned to me, his expression softening. "Kid, you've got guts. But fighting Vi isn't gonna make things easier for you here."

"She's the one who—" I started, but Vander cut me off with a look.

"And Vi," he continued, his tone hardening again, "you're better than this. If you're mad about something, take it out on the machine, not the kid."

Vi muttered something under her breath and stormed back toward the boxing machine, her shoulders tense. Powder tugged on my sleeve again, giving me a small, apologetic smile. "She'll come around," she whispered.

I wanted to believe her, but as Vi slammed her fist into the machine with enough force to make it shake, I wasn't so sure. Vander went out and picked up a barrel before moving off again, I wondered briefly if he came to check on us or if my mother requested he come spy.

The tension between Vi and me lingered, heavy and suffocating, as we stared each other down. Powder shifted nervously beside me, glancing between us like she was waiting for someone to call a truce. Across the room, Milo and Claggor exchanged wary looks, their unease palpable.

Finally, Claggor cleared his throat, his voice tentative. "Uh, maybe we should head back to the bar? It's getting late."

Vi didn't move at first, her gaze still locked on mine. Then, with a sharp huff, she turned on her heel and stalked toward the door. "Yeah, whatever," she muttered.

The walk back to the Last Drop was nothing short of excruciating. Powder hovered close, trying to fill the silence with cheerful chatter, but my replies were clipped, my anger simmering too close to the surface. Vi walked ahead of us, her shoulders rigid and her pace brisk, while Milo prattled on about some random nonsense, seemingly oblivious to the tension.

By the time I got home, I was still fuming. The words echoed in my head like a bad song stuck on repeat. Princess. Babysitting. You don't belong.

I threw open my bag and started unpacking the rest of my stuff with a vengeance. The drawers clattered as I shoved clothes inside, muttering under my breath. "Princess. Babysitting. I don't belong? Ugh!"

My mom appeared in the doorway, her expression hovering somewhere between amusement and concern. "Rough day, sweetheart?" she asked, her tone light but probing.

"She called me a princess," I grumbled, slamming a drawer shut with more force than necessary.

From the couch, Sevika let out a bark of laughter so loud it startled me. "You? A princess? That's rich." She was sprawled out like she owned the place, a half-empty drink in her hand and that ever-present smirk on her face.

"She's trying to get under your skin," Mom said, folding her arms and leaning casually against the doorframe. Her smile was knowing, the kind that said she'd seen every teenage meltdown under the sun and wasn't fazed in the slightest.

"Well, it's working," I snapped, throwing myself onto the bed with dramatic flair. "Apparently, I 'don't belong here.'"

That got their attention. Mom's expression softened with concern, but Sevika only arched an eyebrow, her smirk growing sharper. "Vi said that, huh?"

"Yeah," I muttered, staring up at the ceiling. "Right in front of everyone, like she couldn't care less."

Sevika chuckled, setting her drink down on the table with a soft clink. "Kid, if Vi's calling you names, it means she's paying attention to you."

"That's a terrible way to spin it," I said, shooting her a glare.

Mom tried to hide her grin behind her hand, but the crinkle at the corners of her eyes gave her away. "Sevika's not wrong, though."

"Vi doesn't waste time on people she doesn't think are worth noticing." Sevika said.

"Oh, great. So now I'm supposed to be grateful that she called me a princess?" I huffed, sitting up just to slam my pillow back down. "Next time she insults me, I'll bake her a cake."

Sevika laughed again, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. "Look, princess—"

"Don't call me that," I growled, my face heating.

"Fine, fine," she said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "Look, you're new. People down here don't just roll out the welcome mat because you're trying to be nice. You've gotta prove yourself."

"Prove myself?" I repeated incredulously, throwing my arms up. "What does that even mean? Should I wrestle a sump rat? Arm-wrestle Vander? What?!"

That broke Mom. She burst out laughing, and Sevika followed suit, the two of them feeding off each other like a pair of hyenas.

"I'm serious!" I yelled, glaring at them both. "This isn't funny!"

"Oh, honey," Mom said between chuckles, wiping at her eyes. "It's just… picturing you arm-wrestling Vander is—" She dissolved into laughter again, leaning against the doorframe for support.

Sevika grinned, shaking her head. "Vander wouldn't stand a chance. You've got that 'princess rage.'"

"Sevika!" I shouted, grabbing the nearest pillow and chucking it at her. She caught it effortlessly, laughing even harder.

"Alright, alright," Mom said, finally pulling herself together. She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, her hand finding my knee. "Look, sweetheart. It's going to take time. Zaun's rough, and people here don't just trust someone because they're nice. You have to show them who you are. And Vi? She's got her own walls. But if she's poking at you, it's her way of figuring you out."

"Or she just doesn't like me," I muttered, crossing my arms and sinking back against the headboard.

"Trust me," Sevika said, her tone unusually serious for a moment. "If Vi didn't like you, you'd know it. This?" She gestured vaguely. "This is her being cautious."

I sighed, staring back up at the ceiling. The ache in my chest hadn't gone away, but their words helped dull the sting. "I just… I thought we were starting to get along, you know?"

Mom brushed a strand of hair out of my face, her smile gentle now. "You will, honey. Just give it time."

"And maybe don't throw a tantrum the next time she calls you a princess," Sevika added with a smirk. "It's not the worst nickname, you know."

"Don't push your luck," I grumbled, but the corner of my mouth twitched.

They both laughed, and despite my best efforts to stay mad, I couldn't help but smile, just a little.

I clenched my fists. If I was going to survive here—if I was going to help her—I'd have to figure out how to get past that wall of hers. And fast.