Chapter Text
Biz surveyed the empty lab with a sense of steadily mounting apprehension.
It seemed less a room than a cavernous maw, taunting her with its lack of substance. The phrase ‘Feed me, Seymour’ came to mind unbidden. She alone would be responsible for filling this lab: with supplies, with ideas, and with results. She had been granted this research opportunity at Piltover’s illustrious Academy, and it was up to her to make that mean something. So far, she was still skating by on confidence and reputation, but that well would run dry before she knew it. Pretty soon, she would need to start spinning all her pretty words into gold. She was fairly certain that she was up for the task, but a little insecurity was only human.
Just come up with some groundbreaking results, rewrite the script on modern medicine, and prove to everyone that ever believed in her that they hadn’t been wasting their time. Easy peasy.
A tapping sound broke her internal monologue, and she looked up to see a thin, sharply dressed man enter the doorway, his cane clicking against the tile. She surmised in an instant that this must be the dean's assistant, right on schedule. Biz quickly stood from her perch on the uncomfortable metal stool that seemed to be requisite in any place of science. She crossed the distance quickly, perhaps a bit too eager to make a good first impression.
“You must be Viktor! Heimerdinger just left, but he said you would come by with some paperwork for me.” Biz smiled warmly. “He tells me that you are quite talented as an inventor. Went on for a while about it, actually.”
His brow crinkled in mild discomfort: the picture of humility. She idly wondered whether the expression was genuine. Most scientists she knew were not lacking in ego, but they could usually play pretend with the best of them.
“The professor is most generous with his praise. And you must be Miss Elizabeth Kantor, then.” He extended a hand in greeting. Biz opened her mouth to correct him; she had never been a huge fan of her own name, much preferring the brevity and informality of “Biz.” However, there was something about the way his mouth moved around the vowels, and particularly the way his tongue wrapped around the “th,” that made her rethink her distaste in the name. If nothing else, it was a welcome excuse to hear him say just a couple more syllables in that delicious accent. In the end, she simply took his hand with a smile.
“Yes, that’d be me.”
“I understand that you yourself are a most noteworthy biologist, especially when it comes to medicinal botany.”
She smiled, lowering her eyes in what she figured was an appropriate display of modesty.
“Yes, well, it’s an easy subject to be passionate about.” She looked back up at him and became momentarily distracted by the sharpness of his gaze. She got the distinct sense that she was being observed, all her minutiae being carefully catalogued for later analysis. She moved a hand experimentally, benignly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and she was fascinated by the flicker of his golden eyes as he tracked the movement. “I’ve found myself a bit pigeon-holed in the study of plant life lately, but I do consider myself a bit of a jack-of-all-trades as a biologist. It’s just that botany arguably has the most… practical applications.”
His head cocked at this, just by a degree or two. She found herself charmed by the subtle, attentive gesture. “You really think so? I know some physiologists who may disagree.”
She grinned at this, shedding all pretense of modesty. “They can disagree all they want. If a physiologist is stranded in the woods, sure, they’ll be able to rationalize their way through the panic, but would they know to take hawthorn to reduce the tachycardia? They’d know they need carbohydrates to fuel cellular respiration, but would they be able to actually survive longer than a day on what the forest provided? It’s useless to simply understand how the system works if you don’t know what to do when the system fails.”
Viktor seemed to consider this, his head now tilted like that of a curious bird. “I do understand the point you’re trying to make, and I certainly don’t disagree, but I would hardly consider panic and hunger to be system failures.” He adjusted the grip on his cane, fingers flexing in a way that Biz found entirely unwholesome.
“No,” she conceded with a slight roll of the eyes, “they’re signs of a healthy and functioning nervous system, but you’re being pedantic.”
“I am a scientist. Pedantry is my love language.”
She narrowed her eyes, unable to smother the upward twitch of her lips. Were they flirting? This felt distinctly like flirting, but the apparently ever-present furrow of his brow made his expression difficult to read.
“An injured arm, then.”
“You can say leg, I won’t be offended,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye.
She let out a startled laugh. “Fine, then, a leg. If you don’t know what plants can be used to lessen the pain and prevent infection, you’re still shit out of luck.”
He laughed. “If I had known you were so resentful towards physiologists, I wouldn’t have brought it up.”
“I dated one a while back--it didn’t go particularly well. I’m pretty sure we had this exact argument.”
“I hope you were at least able to come up with something kind to say at their funeral.”
She opened her mouth, about to say something favorable about her former partner’s sex performance, but briefly thought the better of it. Best not to push the envelope with this new face, regardless of how disarming a face it was.
Oh, fuck it. Biz never had been one to hold her tongue. Why start now?
“Yes, I think my eulogy went something like, ‘Here lies Devin—at least he put out’.”
He laughed then, the sound surprised but genuine.
“Well, I will be sure to, ah, stay in my lane moving forward. Lest you feel compelled to speak at my funeral.”
She smiled. “Yes, luckily for you, I don’t know a thing about mechanical engineering, so you’re safe from any biting commentary.” She winked, noticing him react with a curious twitch of his brow. “At least, until I get bored and decide to add something new to my portfolio.”
Viktor gave a performative wince. “Please be sure to give me a fair warning if that ever becomes the case. I’ll need to arm myself appropriately.” He procured a stack of papers that had been tucked beneath his arm, handing them to her. “In the meantime, please fill these out and return them to me at your earliest convenience. I can typically be found in Professor Heimerdinger’s lab across the hall.”
“Ah, prime harassment distance. I’ll keep that in mind.” She accepted the papers and took a step back. “Now, if you’re done being thoroughly beguiled by me, I have a date with the supply room.”
He gave a small bow. “I have a feeling that I still have a ways to go on that account. Nonetheless, I will leave you to it.”
His gaze lingered just a moment before he turned to leave. Biz watched his departure with keen interest, her teeth wearing at her bottom lip (a habit she swore she had kicked). She wondered, vaguely, if this was how her specimen slides felt. Strangely exposed. Seen.
She’d remember to spare them a moment’s pity in the future. Or perhaps envy. She hadn’t quite decided.