Chapter Text
Frost kisses the milky windows of the Last Drop, painting them in crystalline constellations. You watch as Jinx presses her nose against the cool glass, breath fogging it up.
The two of you have spent most of the day watching snowflakes drop into Zaun. It hasn’t snowed down here in years, not that the general Zaunite population seems to mind—The cold doesn’t help with the homeless and hungry on the streets. Silco’s been snappy all day, what with the blocked streets cutting off some of his main supply lines in the Undercity. This, in turn, means that everyone’s been on edge today, cursing the flurry of frost as they passed through the bar on their various errands.
You, however, can’t help but marvel at the sight.
It’s ridiculous, you know that. There’s no place in the Lanes for a hopeless romantic. But something about the white blanket of silence covering the roofs and alleys brings you peace.
Jinx seems to feel the same, face still tucked against the window, watching the snowflakes descend.
You’ve been watching her today. Not that you think she really needs a babysitter anymore (she’s turning thirteen next year, which is so very wild to all of you still), but you do enjoy the quiet day it gives you. The bar’s been mainly empty over the course of the day, save for the occasional passersby on an errand run for the boss.
As if on cue, the door slams open and a freezing gush of wind sweeps inside. Jinx yelps at the cold, moving away from the window to face the newcomer who’s now shaking off snow in the doorway.
And, by the Gods, Sevika looks beautiful like this, snow-speckled hair falling into her face, frost nipping at her reddened cheeks and nose.
You’re well aware that you shouldn’t think of Silco’s second-in-command like this. Perhaps the weather really does make you sentimental, because Sevika shuts the door behind her and looks up, and oh.
If she notices the flush on your cheekbones, she doesn’t comment on it. Maybe she attributes it to the cold air still ghosting around the room. Half-melted snow drips from her cape as she steps inside, mouth pulled into that ever-present sneer of hers.
“Fucking snow.”
Her voice is deep and smoky, and you pretend it’s the cool air that’s sending shivers down your spine. Jinx is glancing at Sevika in annoyance—It’s no secret the two of them can’t stand each other. Though you weren’t there to see it, you’ve heard the others whispering about it after a few drinks too many; how it was Jinx who cost the woman her arm. You clear your throat, trying to find your voice, to think straight.
“Want something to drink? That’ll warm you right up.”
Sevika steps closer to the counter and gives a curt nod, shrugging off her cape. There’s melted slush dripping from her forehead, sliding down her cheek. You busy yourself with pouring her a drink before you can do something incredibly stupid, like leaning over the counter to wipe it away while staring deeply into her eyes.
(The thought only crosses your mind for a second.)
(You still sneak glances at her while she drinks her whisky and watch as a droplet runs down her throat and into her shirt.)
(Maybe you excuse yourself to the bathroom after she leaves, if only to calm your beating heart.)