Chapter Text
Honestly, she should’ve been better prepared.
Vi was never one to get caught by surprise, or get sidetracked by minute details; she was always on alert, always watching for the next punch, the next fight, the next knife, or fist aimed at her face. It’s made her pretty good at predicting her opponents, and it’s also made her good at hearing footsteps that shouldn’t be there or seeing the flash of a blade at the corner of her eye.
After a while it became an instinct, predicting oncoming harm was akin to sniffing food and knowing it was rotten, the air became stale and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. For Vi, because of her time in Zaun and then in Stillwater she didn’t really have a choice but to get good at it. It’s kept her alive for many years and would probably keep her alive for many more.
Vi was really damn good at knowing when something is wrong, when a plan is about to go south, when there’s a crack in the foundation.
So, it shouldn’t have come as quite a shock to her when her rut started.
In her defense, there were more important things to worry about than her cycle. She and Caitlyn were working a case after all; some kid named Angus, from the Taroist family, had gone missing, and the search for him took the both of them through all of Piltover and then all the way down to Zaun.
And it was only when they passed into the Undercity that Vi started to feel off.
Sure, there were signs before then, signs she hadn’t bothered to pay attention to because they seemed unimportant at the time.
Like when an enforcer had walked by them the other day, giving Caitlyn an obvious once over, and she dismissed the spike of anger as irrationality. Or when they stopped at a bar the night before and she had to grapple with the fury filled urge to start a fistfight once she caught wind of another alpha’s aggressive scent not ten feet away. That was just her getting overstimulated, nothing more.
Or this morning, when travelling through midtown she got distractingly hot under the collar; sweat beading along her back and face without so much as a jog to prompt it. That, she thought, was just a product of not having eaten enough, and she makes a mental note to grab a snack or two on her way home.
It was only when she gravitated toward Caitlyn, her scent fresh like rainfall and lavender, that Vi realized what was happening.
So really, it’s her own fault that she’s sweating in the corner of an herbalist shop, breathing through her mouth, fists balled in her jacket pockets, feeling like the world’s biggest dumbass.
Because of Caitlyn’s dogged investigation skills they visited all the Angus Tariost’s favorite haunts, and their search pointed them here, to this small store close to the edge of the undercity. It doesn’t take a genius to know that the place is clearly a front for a shimmer operation, and even with all of Caitlyn’s smarts and Vi’s charms, the clerk isn’t giving them anything.
He’s an older beta, mid-thirties, slender, and smart as a whip. His gaze is calculating as he evades Caitlyn’s probing questions with practiced ease, twirling a pen between his fingers. The longer he stalls them the more frustrated they become, very different kinds of frustration but still, this is wasting time and she knows that she’s gonna start to smell if she doesn’t do something about her pheromones soon.
Sensing a short lull in their conversation, she walks over and gives Caitlyn’s belt a light tug backward, which is a mistake because her instincts really like doing that.
Focus, Vi. She chants in her head, focus.
Caitlyn, eyes narrowed in displeasure, turns. “What?”
“I got this one, cupcake.” Her voice is low and rough like sandpaper, and Caitlyn cocks an eyebrow as she clears her throat. “Let me talk to him.”
Caitlyn frowns, her eyes narrowing even further. “Excuse me?”
The thing about Caitlyn that Vi hates and loves is that she does everything perfectly and that there’s no room for error. Caitlyn is probably the most fastidious person she’s ever met; there’s never a hair out of place or a wrinkle in sight and she notices every single detail, down to the most minute differences in one’s appearance. It probably has to do with her fancy topsider upbringing, and the fact that since she’s a Kirammen, Caitlyn prides herself on being the best of the best. Always at the top of her game, she won’t settle for anything less.
Which is probably why she doesn’t like being pulled away from this interrogation that she’s bent on seeing through.
“Let me talk to him,” Vi repeats, eyeing the bespectacled figure behind the barred counter. “You’re making him nervous.” It isn’t exactly the truth, but seeing as how the clerk is talking them in circles, it isn’t exactly a lie either.
It might also be faster to just beat the answers out of him, but that’s really her rut talking.
“What makes you think you wont make him nervous?” Caitlyn’s lips are pulled down into a frown and Vi wishes that she wasn’t so damn attractive when she looks all displeased and pouty like this.
“Look—I’ve got the Undercity connection here.” She says, resisting the urge to fidget and let off the tension building up in every single muscle fiber. “He might be willing to hear me out more than you.”
“Vi—”
“I know you’re better at talking,” she continues, “but even without the uniform you still kinda look like an enforcer.”
That also wasn’t a lie; at six feet tall with a lithe, athletic build Caitlyn certainly cut an imposing figure, and the clerk could probably sense what training she’s gotten just through her perfect posture alone. Vi reasons that the quickest way to get them both out of here with what they want is to throw in from classic Vander-esque charm.
Caitlyn eyes her for a moment longer, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly like she knows Vi has an ulterior motive, which is worrisome because Caitlyn can almost always tell when something is wrong when it comes to Vi. It’s like a sixth sense she has, one that is annoying as it is sweet.
“Fine. I’ll wait outside then.” She states, eyes still wary and concerned. Vi has to breathe through her mouth when Caitlyn steps close, and then bite the inside of her cheek as their shoulders brush when she slips out the door.
There’s a moment of silence where Vi fights to put her scrambled thoughts together until a voice pipes up, “You’re pretty pent up there, aren’t ya?”
She looks up and the clerk is leaning against the counter still. He looks amused as his fingers drum against the metal top, watching her.
Vi clenches her jaw, lets the pressure ground her and remind her that she’s trying to do something here. “It’s not great, I’ll tell you that much.”
The clerk sniffs, “that’s unfortunate.” He says, eyes gleaming. “But as luck would have it, I could help you out.”
“You’re not my type buddy—”
“Cute.” His lips quirk, “but no. I’m talking about how you’re dying for some suppressants right now.”
Vi wonders what the pros and cons are of showing her hand this soon before sighing in defeat. “It’s already started.” She can already tell this is gonna be a bad rut, if the prickles of heat sparking in her lower belly are any indication. But if she times it right she can finish the case with Caitlyn and make her escape before she embarrasses herself too badly.
“Ah, yes. Topsiders have suppressants that only work if taken before a cycle starts.” He continues to twirl that pen between his fingers, “but we make suppressants that start working during ones’ cycle.”
That gets her attention. “You’re shitting me.”
“Merchants’ honor.” He says tapping his sternum, “I can give you something to keep your cycle in check, starting in the next thirty minutes.”
Vi purses her lips, and taps her fingers on her chin. While the promise of suppressants and relief does sound perfect and exactly what she needs right now, Vi isn’t stupid. This guy sells shimmer, and any of his homemade suppressants, even the benign ones, are also probably laced with the shit. She still has most of her wits about her and a job to do, she can’t afford to lose any of her senses right now.
“You got any of the boring phero-blockers?” She asks, “the stuff that everyone uses down here.”
The clerk sighs, “yeah I got those too.”
“How much for those?” She asks, her brain is fluctuating wildly between hormones and common sense and she shakes her head to clear it.
“Ten for a bottle of the generic stuff.”
“I’ll give you sixty.” Vi reaches into her jacket and pulls out a thick coin purse. Turns out becoming a private detective with a rich topsider pays really fucking well. “Ten for the meds and fifty for intel on the kid. We good?”
Vi doesn’t miss seeing the man’s eyebrows go up in shock, before he schools his features back into amused neutrality. “You’ve got a deal.”
He takes the money and slides a small bottle to her under the bars; it’s the same glass bottle and small white pills she used to take back when she was a teenager. There’s something grounding about the familiarity of it all. She picks up the bottle and dry swallows two pills; she’s not a teenager anymore and this shit might not work for very long but she needs just enough time to help Caitlyn finish this case before she can hole herself up in her room for a week.
When she turns back to him, he raises an eyebrow and starts talking, “Now about the kid…”
The clerk tells her everything. That Angus showed up one day looking exhausted, slapping some money down on the counter and demanding shimmer. According to the clerk he had all the signs of withdrawal, but since he could still pay they would still sell to him. He told Vi that Angus would come in every two weeks for new doses and that the last time he saw Angus was five days ago.
“Pleasure doing business with you.” She says, and exits the shop, feeling more relieved than she did minutes ago. There is a niggling sense in the back of her head that is warning her that simply blocking her scent wont be enough, that she needs some actual suppressants, but Vi tamps it down.
Finish the job first, deal with consequences later.
As soon as the shop door closes behind her, Caitlyn is on her, tenacious as ever. “What was that about?”
Vi pauses, takes a deep breath in through her mouth, “I was getting the info we needed?”
“No that was—weird.” She takes a step closer, her eyes flicking over Vi’s face. “In fact, you’ve been acting weird all day.”
“I have not—”
“You have.” Caitlyn insists, face tugging into an attractive frown that is absolutely not helping Vi’s hormone addled brain. “You’ve been quiet and jumpy. What’s wrong?”
Leave it to Caitlyn to notice the exact thing she’s trying to hide. “Cait, nothing’s wrong.” Vi says, “I’m fine, alright? Just didn’t sleep well last night is all—but I got the address we need so let’s go and get this done.”
Caitlyn stands back, clearly not believing her; her desire to get Vi to talk warring with the drive to finish the case. It’s sweet how much Caitlyn worries about her, and Vi appreciates it more than she could say, but she really doesn’t want to discuss the finer points of her rut with her closest friend right now.
The omega presses her lips together and nods, still suspicious, and she takes that as a sign to get moving; she turns, but Caitlyn catches her arm, and the touch sends a zip of electricity up her spine.
“You’d tell me if something was wrong though, right?” Her voice is quieter, more worried now.
“Yeah.” She swallows, ignores the growl in her head telling her to press her against the wall and make her see how “alright” you are. “Yeah, of course cupcake.”
Vi watches Caitlyn’s nostrils flare, frown deepening even further, and she prays this stupid drug works fast.
She clears her throat, “c’mon. Let’s find this kid and then go home.”
//
Finishing the job is messier than it should’ve been.
The phero-blocker works pretty quickly, muting her scent to something normal enough for her to exist in public without getting weird looks. It doesn’t make her snarling instincts go away but at least she doesn’t smell like she’s going to combust from sexual frustration.
After navigating through the neighborhoods, Caitlyn knocks on the door of an old apartment.
No response.
She knocks again, louder this time, and Vi hears a soft groan and shuffling on the other end. Her shoulders tense involuntarily, and she has to fight to keep a warning growl in.
The door cracks open, and there’s half of a pale face, with sunken eyes staring back at them. “What do you want.”
“Angus?” Caitlyn asks, and the guy, who is clearly young, maybe eighteen or seventeen years old, frowns.
“Who wants to know?”
“Your family.” Caitlyn states in that honest and straightforward way of hers.
His frown deepens, “tell ‘em to fuck off. And you too.”
Up until this point Vi has managed to keep it together. Has held her instincts down almost at gunpoint, has been repeating Vander’s lessons on etiquette like a mantra in her head for the past hour, and all it takes is one rude sentence to Caitlyn to unravel it all. Her blood is pumping and shes practically spoiling for a fight.
“I don’t think so,” Vi snarls, and she feels Cait jump beside her. She notices the kids’ eyes widen, “open the fucking door Angus, or I’ll do it for you.”
He gets over the shock quickly, eyes narrowing back into slits. “No. No I don’t think I will.” He says, “get lost, both of you.”
“Your parents want to help you Angus, they’re worried about you–” Vi’s hyperactive senses hone in on a sound, the metallic click of a gun cocking.
“Look I said–” Vi takes those precious seconds to barrel into Caitlyn and send her tumbling to the ground as Angus is yanked back and a gun blast goes off where he was standing.
Vi turns around and sees a new character in the doorway; he’s tall, broad shouldered, and as pale as Angus, wearing a pressed white shirt and trousers, with familiar brown boots that are polished to a shine. His eyes are wild, and his gaze is trained on Vi and Caitlyn with murderous intent.
“Don’t you two fuckers know when someone wants you to fuck off?”
He’s reloading his gun, a single barrel shotgun that Vi notices has blown a hole through the apartment door. Angus is staring at him, wide eyed and afraid from the ground.
Vi sees red.
She didn’t bring her gauntlets, didn’t think she’d need them for something as simple as this, but she reasons that she doesn’t need her metal fists when her flesh ones will do just fine.
She lunges for the man, slamming her palm up into his jaw and crunching down on his toes with her foot. He howls and drops the gun, and Vi can feel her alpha instincts snarl at her to finish him, to make him pay for trying to hurt her Caitlyn–
Vi stops consciously thinking and lays into him with her fists. Distantly she knows that shes not really thinking about what she’s doing, that there is no finesse or rationality to her blows, but her rage is working out pretty well to get the job done.
Her fists connect with his face, his neck, his stomach, again and again and again. He writhes and tries to fight her off, grabbing at her shirt and her hands, but she’s faster and more furious than him, and quickly overwhelms by the force of her attacks. Vi rains blow after blow down on him until his face is more blood then skin, and it feels good, it’s vindication, it’s right for her to enact punishment on a lowlife who tried to hurt Caitlyn.
But the rage makes her sloppy, and she very nearly misses the flash of a knife.
She manages to lurch back and away in time, earning a slash against the tendon of her neck.
The cut stings and she’s crouched low as he rolls over with a groan. There’s a small scalpel in his hand as he turns to her with a bloodied face; one of his eyes is swollen shut and caked in blood, there’s several deep cuts along his forehead and temples, his nose is not just broken but shattered, and his jaw looks crooked.
“I’m gonna fuck you up, girl.” His voice is more of a wheeze now as he holds the scalpel out towards Vi’s chest. She only snarls in response.
There’s a familiar click and his eyes widen in alarm.
“I think,” Caitlyn says calmly, rifle trained on his chest. “That you will put that knife down, nice and easy.”
He smirks, his lips curling into an ugly smile; he’s definitely missing some teeth. “I think you should shove that gun up your–”
A piece of plywood comes out of nowhere and Angus slams the wood into the back of his head. The man’s one remaining good eye rolls up into the back of his skull and he slumps down, unconscious.
There’s a moment of silence where the three of them just stare at his limp form. Vi can still feel the urge to hurt, to rip him to pieces for threatening Caitlyn, for daring to harm her, for even thinking of laying a hand on her omega–
Wait.
Her omega?
Ah shit.
“Okay so,” Angus says in a small voice, “I’d actually like to go home now.”
//
In the end the case had a twist, like most do.
Angus was using shimmer, that much was true, but an enforcer by the name of Roderick Payne, had caught wind of a possible connection between one of Angus’s friends and the Firelights. In an effort to draw the group out of hiding he concocted a scheme of kidnapping Angus and making it look like a shimmerhead gone off the rails, banking on the idea that his topsider family wouldn’t come looking for him.
He was wrong about that, and was going to face consequences, the Taroists would make sure of it.
After a doctor put his face back together of course.
And Vi feels moderately good about the whole thing, Angus is safe, his family were overjoyed to see him, and she and Caitlyn got paid. A fine day all things considered.
But Caitlyn is quiet as they exit the Taroist residence. She keeps looking at Vi with barely concealed concern and worry and now that the adrenaline of the fight is gone, being in close proximity to Caitlyn is starting to affect her again.
Vi starts to walk a little faster.
It’s a goddamn relief when they do get back to the Kirammen manor.
Vi makes a B-line for her bathroom, intending on taking a shower and then lock herself in her room to deal with her stupid cycle alone until it’s over, but Caitlyn follows her, and steps through the door behind her.
“Let me see your cut.” She says, reaching out for her. She touches her skin and Vi’s brain starts short-circuiting like an exposed wire.
Caitlyn gently cradles her jaw in her hands, inspecting the cut, before moving to the medicine cabinet and pulling out some alcohol and a small bandage. While her back is turned Vi adjusts her pants and crosses her legs; if she breathes through her mouth and hides her hard dick Caitlyn wont notice, right?
“What was that today?” Caitlyn asks finally, cleaning the cut first with soapy water, Vi tries to let the sting of pain ground her to reality.
“What was what?” Vi says as she slips off her jacket while Caitlyn works. She’s getting hot now and she can feel the flush on her chest and neck. Caitlyn’s proximity to her also isn’t helping.
She can feel Caitlyn’s eyes over her features as she dabs at the cut with alcohol now. “That fight. What happened?”
Vi shrugs, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the wall beyond Caitlyn’s shoulder. If she looks into the omega’s eye right now she will be utterly gone.
Caitlyn presses the small bandage to her neck and Vi immediately slips away from Caitlyn’s warm body. She’s either gonna pounce on the omega or cum in her pants, neither option looking at all attractive to her so she washes her hands. Tries to focus on the smell of the eucalyptus soap, the feeling of soapy water running over her fingers, the cool marble pressing into her pelvis. Anything but Caitlyn’s scent that is permeating through the air.
“He threatened you, I beat him up. It’s what usually happens when we work on a case.”
“No, that is not what usually happens.” Vi has noticed that Caitlyn over enunciates when she’s irritated or worried, and she sounds extra clear right now. “Vi you pummeled that man.”
“I pummel a lot of people.”
“Not like that.” Caitlyn’s eyes are still on her, and Vi knows that if she keeps avoiding her stare that Cait will come closer, and that’s the last thing she wants. “I’ve never seen you like that before.”
Vi snorts, and turns, crossing her arms over her chest so she doesn’t do something stupid like reach for Caitlyn. “Look I’m sorry if it was kind of intense today. But I’m honestly–”
“I’ve seen you angry, Vi.” Caitlyn states, midnight eyes wide and worried, “I’ve seen you furious and sad and happy. But I’ve never seen you uncontrolled like that. What’s going on?”
Now, Vi isn’t a particularly proud person. In fact, you could say that her birth, childhood, and life up until now were humble even, pride has never been something she’s struggled with. But she is as stubborn as an ox, and twice as unyielding. Admitting to Caitlyn that her hormones made her more bullheaded then usual is not ideal.
She tries to think of a way to respond, something that’s clever and vague enough to not reveal anything but specific enough to placate her partner. As she flounders her cock is getting harder and her rut-addled brain starts throwing around unhelpful suggestions.
Show her ‘what’s going on’, the very horny voice in her head supplies, grab her hand and let her feel how big you are.
Her blood is pounding in her ears and fuck, Caitlyn smells so good; lavender flowers and something fresh, like pine, and its calling to Vi’s instincts like a moth to a flame. She wants to bury her hands in her dark hair, run her tongue along the seam of Caitlyn’s lips, finally put her hands against the flair of her hips like she’s wanted too for so long…
Okay she needs to do something now. Her impulse control is at its very worst and if she doesn’t curtail it she might actually press up against Caitlyn.
So, instead of answering Vi just shrugs and, in her worst display of communication yet, sprints to the bathroom window, unlatches it, and dives out of it.
Caitlyn yells after her but Vi knows that she’s faster when it comes to climbing and making a quick unplanned escape.
Yeah. Nailed it.
//
It’s well past 1 AM by the time she gets back.
In an effort to not attract the attention of any omegas or even worse, enforcers, Vi sticks to the airship docks. Most of the people working the night shift are betas or alphas and, after downing a couple more phero blockers, Vi can exist comfortably around them without provoking a fight.
She means to just take a couple minutes to clear her head, and expend some of the energy in her body so that her brain isn’t running on a constant inner monologue of Caitlyn, Caitlyn, Caitlyn–
And it works, but only a little.
Because even though she’s not here with her, Vi still can’t stop thinking about Cait.
Everything about her; from the throaty timbre of her voice, to her long, long legs, to her cute little laugh…it’s maddening.
It’s even worse when she runs into another omega because some look at her with curiosity, some with appraisal, some with open lust. And she thinks maybe she can ride out her rut with them… and as soon as the thought crosses her mind she has to bite back a snarl as her instincts reject the notion with more force then necessary.
It seems that her rut, regardless of what she tells it, is fixated on one omega, and one alone.
Fuck, shit, and damnit too.
So, she walks. Around and through Piltover, ducking away from enforcers and away from pedestrians, hoping to give herself some time to think and some space. She doesn’t realize what time it is until a large clock in one of the fancy topside parks chimes the early morning hour.
Vi sighs and, squaring her shoulders, makes her way back to the Kirammen estate.
The walk there and subsequent path up to her new bedroom window is the same as it’s been before, and she makes it in with barely a sound.
Her timing is perfect too. Her cycle has ramped up in the part hour; she’s sweating and panting and is hard as a fucking rock. Vi carelessly strips down to nothing and goes to her bathroom, taking the coldest shower imaginable to combat the snarling, gnashing voice that’s bouncing around her skull like ball lightning.
She only has enough sense to dry her hair and pull on a clean pair of boxers. Her goal is to just lay in bed, try to sleep, and in the morning jack off until she can’t feel her dick anymore.
That’s the plan at least, until someone bangs on her door.
“I know you’re home Vi.” Caitlyn hisses through the wood.
Fucking hell.
“I saw you climb through the window.” Her partner says, and she sounds pissed. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”
Fuck, shit, and fuck again.
Vi wants to reply, to–well she doesn’t know what exactly. But no words come out of her mouth, instead what leaves her lips is a loud, tortured low growl.
Whatever’s left of Vi’s good sense panics, because of all the things that couldve happened she just had to make the most aggressive knothead alpha sound she could make? Caitlyn’s gonna throw her out for sure, she might be nice but she’s not gonna take…
“I’m coming in.” She calls, and the door handle twists.
“Wait.” Vi says, her voice a strangled tenor snarl, “don’t–”
But Cailyn is stepping inside, looking beautiful in silk robe that goes down to her knees. Her hair is up in a bun and just like Vi thought, she looks mad.
He irritation shifts to concern when she lays eyes on Vi.
“Vi?” She strides towards her, arms out ready to touch or oh fuck, cup her face. “Are you okay?”
“Stay back.” Vi hisses, turning her hips away so they’re not facing the omega and backing up. “Just…just stay there.”
“Why?” Caitlyn sounds genuinely alarmed now, “why what’s happened? Vi, talk to me please, tell me what’s wrong–”
Caitlyn is moving toward her again, and Vi doesn’t look where she’s going and backs up into her bed. She lands on the covers with a grunt and looks up in time to watch Caitlyn’s gaze find her hard on.
“Oh.” She breathes, her eyes widening.
Vi groans, and reaches for one of her pillows, slapping it down onto her lap. “Yeah.”
Caitlyn stares at her now covered lap for two beats, and when she looks up her eyes are still a little wide. “You’re rutting.”
She chuckles, because that’s all Vi can do at this point. “Yep.”
There’s a long beat of silence as the two of them stare at each other. The longer that Caitlyn stays in her space the more Vi starts to fidget; her instincts have registered Caitlyn’s scent, and are now filling her head with x-rated thoughts that are making it harder and harder to focus.
“I think you might want to lea–”
“I can help you with that.”
Their sentences overlap, and Vi doesn’t even remember what she was about to say, the rest of her words die a very quick death as her eyes widen. There are several seconds of silence as Vi’s mouth opens and closes, her brain trying to reboot itself into working. It becomes a lot harder for her to form any thoughts though, when she realizes her cock, eager and excited, is somehow even harder at Caitlyn’s suggestion.
No way. There’s no fuckin way she just said–
“Wh–” Vi’s voice is hoarse and she coughs to clear it. “What?”
“I’m an omega, Vi.” Caitlyn says, voice shaky but still holding that air of practicality it can never seem to drop. “And we’re partners. If you needed help with your rut, all you had to do was ask.”
“But I—no? I couldn’t?”
“Why not?” Caitlyn’s is usually pretty unflappable, but there’s a crestfallen sound to her voice that makes Vi’s instincts practically go wild with the need to soothe, to protect. She looks oddly stricken right now, and Vi will not let it stand like this.
“Because I…Because I’ve never—” she flounders for a bit, hesitant to say the words out loud, because that’s just one more vulnerability she doesn’t want seen. “It’s complicated.”
Caitlyn’s eyes narrow again. “Complicated, how?”
Vi sighs, searches for some more words, but she’s never been the best with words and only has so few excuses to pick from. More importantly, this is Caitlyn. Caitlyn, who bailed her out of prison on a hunch and compassion alone, who saved her life, who got her a home and a new chance at life, and who’s had her back since the moment she met her.
Vi’s spent the whole day being cagey and elusive, she can be honest for one fucking minute.
“I mean. Because you’re you.” She sighs, “I mean why would I ever think you’d wanna help me with my cycle.”
Caitlyn’s mouth opens and closes; her faces flashes through several emotions before it settles on this sweet little crooked smile that Vi has always found adorable.
Caitlyn pads forward, folds her robes down, and takes a seat on the bed right next to Vi. She tried not to let the fact that the omega’s bare knee is touching hers drive her more insane.
“Vi.” Caitlyn whispers, reaching out her hand and folding over Vi’s, lacing their fingers together. “Why wouldn’t I help you?”