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Viktor had been entrusted with the wellbeing and satisfaction of Anya, a well-respected donor, on the sole basis that they had once been friends in childhood. Heimerdinger seemed to have more faith in him than he had in himself. Socialization was never Viktor’s strong suit, and he had not spoken to this childhood friend in nearly fifteen years. Though, it seemed she had changed little: she was still kind and intelligent, equitable and soft spoken – he had admired her many years ago. He never thought he’d see her again.
He had been given an allowance of ten thousand dollars by the Academy to court her with fine wine and dinners, to take her to events and treat her to the luxuries Piltover and the Academy had to offer. But Anya had no love for gilded things, nor insincere showmanship. He asked her to pick a place that suited her more modest interests, and they would meet to discuss the upcoming projects and events the Academy had planned – which her donation would help fund.
He pressed his vest and tie, just in case.
Anya had chosen a tea house in the middle of Piltover for afternoon tea. It wasn’t gilded, but neither was it dilapidated. It was humble and quiet, but still smelled of fresh herbs and sweet tea cakes when he opened the door.
“I am here with a reservation for Viktor,” he said to the hostess.
“Ah, Miss Anya arrived a few minutes before you. She chose a table on the balcony.” She guided him to a shaded private table, away from other customers, and with a view of the bustling city below.
Anya sat there, watching a pair of crows dance in the sky; she wore a half sheer, light blue dress that gathered at her feet, with a veil over her hair – spurred from the incident with Derek a week prior, Viktor was certain. She stood the moment she saw him enter the balcony.
“Anya, I apologise. I did not mean to keep you waiting,” Viktor said.
“Please, do not apologise. I am always early. You look well.” She entreated him to sit.
Viktor took his place across from her at the table and set his cane against the wall beside them. “As do you,” he said. “How are you feeling after last week?”
A waiter came to serve them both a pot of tea – sweet black tea, with a small pitcher of creamer and a bowl of sugar. A three tiered stand was placed on the side of the table, it was layered with tea cakes and small sandwiches.
“Better. Still shaken, but…” she waved a hand at the thought of the brute who had grabbed her. “What is done is done. I am glad Derek faced repercussions.”
“Yes, I made sure of it.”
She noted his desire for justice had not changed, she quietly smiled and reached for her cup of tea. “I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of ordering for us.”
He became aware of the setting in front of them. “No – not at all. I have been instructed to indulge whatever it is you want."
She chuckled lightly. “You are new at this, aren’t you?” She spoke in their shared, native tongue.
His breath bled into a laugh. “Is it obvious? I am an administrative assistant, not the head of Public Relations, like Derek.”
“I can tell. I like it.” She took a sip. “I have been donating to different charities and institutions for over a year now. Every place has their own ‘Derek’ – what is the word?” She fumbled for an equivalent word in their shared language. “‘Schmoozers’,” she laughed. “Everyone wants something from me, something I am willing to give freely, but still – they would rather manipulate it from me, instead.” She eyed him. “Please don’t do that.”
He shook his head. “I am not sure I would even know how.”
She looked at him and saw the boy she used to know in Zaun: curious and meek – a mind with the fortitude and intelligence of some blessed cosmic spirit.
“Where else have you donated?” he asked, and took his cup of tea. It was comforting to speak with someone else in his native tongue, he did not have to excuse or explain himself. He was intrinsically understood.
“A nature conservatory, and an organization that gives books and education to children in Zaun. It was a small tutoring program – certainly nothing like the Academy. There were other places I wanted to donate to, but I disliked how they treated me; like I was a fool, a baby they could take from.”
Viktor frowned. “Why would they treat you this way?”
Anya looked around for anyone who may have been around them. They were alone on the balcony, and there were no servers or attendants nearby. She leaned closer to him, across the table, and beckoned him forward. “I won the lottery.”
He quirked, confused – uncertain whether she was joking. “What?”
She nodded, her eyes wide and trusting.
Realization set in that she was serious – she had, in fact, won the lottery.
“It was a big one,” she admitted and leaned back again. “I won the whole thing, it was not split with anyone else. Just me.”
“Congratulations,” he said, almost breathless. Her escape from Zaun made more sense – as did her vast, secluded home. And as did Heimerdinger’s near desperation to keep her as a donor.
“Thank you. It has not been as easy as one might think. Many people have tried to take advantage of me. But I am alright. Certainly better than I was in the Undercity.”
“I know a little of what that is like. When Heimerdinger brought me here from the Undercity, everything was new to me – I felt lost, naive.”
They caught each others’ eye, sharing a mutual understanding of the segregation and despair of poverty.
“I am glad you got out,” she said.
“Thank you. I am happy for you, Anya.”
“Me too,” she laughed. “I am excited to give back to the Academy. It has provided me with many opportunities. I would like a portion of my contributions to go to the department of physics and astronomy. It is where I graduated.”
“Very well, I can certainly make note of that,” Viktor said and made from his vest pocket a small notebook and a pencil. He scrawled a quick note and reached to take another sip of tea. “How much of your contribution were you planning on setting aside?”
“About five million.”
He choked and sputtered tea over himself; he hurriedly took the napkin in his lap and dried his face. “What?” he coughed.
“Heimerdinger did not tell you my donation?”
“He gave me the file but…” he stammered.
“I am donating twenty-five million dollars to the Academy.” She bit her lips together, observing him as he fumbled over himself – both amused and partially embarrassed from the confession of her monetary gain. “I told you it was a big one.”
Viktor coughed again, the napkin still at his mouth as he thought. “Anya, do not be so generous that you lose everything you fought for,” he warned her. The notion that she would be remanded to Zaun after such luck in her escape made him afraid for her future. “Most people who win the lottery are doomed to poverty again because of their overzealous generosity.”
“I am grateful for your concern,” she smiled. “But I already set aside an amount I wanted to spend on philanthropy. My future is well secured.”
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath and returned the napkin to his lap. “Must have been a really big one.”
“Tell me more of the Academy, what it's really like. Not what Derek wanted me to think. What do you do there? Don’t ‘schmooze’ me,” she teased.
He shook his head. “You do not want to hear my work, it is boring.”
She looked at him, expectantly.
He sighed, and resigned as he leaned on the table to stretch his back. “I am Heimerdinger’s assistant. I do everything he needs me to do – from errands, to covering classes. Next week, I will be taking over Engineering 101 for a Professor who will be away on maternity leave.”
“Engineering 101? That is like child's play to you.”
He shrugged with a smirk. “Yes, well, at least I get paid.”
“Do they treat you well?”
He nodded, looking to the distance – it was a clear day, with few clouds and no haze; he could see the outline of the bridge in the distance that separated the Undercity from Piltover. It was a clear distinction, one that never left him. He thought of different encounters with students and faculty from his many years at the Academy. “Most do. Some are more…reserved in who they believe should attend, or work there. I am indifferent to them. I know how lucky I am. I do not squander it.”
“Sounds like we have much in common."
The light from the early afternoon glittered on her veil, and Viktor thought she looked like a pool of water – refreshing, and a kind sight for souls who thirsted. Her laughter had not changed, it was contagious and it sang like music. She always made him laugh as a boy.
They finished their tea, and their conversation – it felt like minutes had gone by, and yet they had discussed everything from the condition of Zaun to the theory of everything. The sun was waning from the middle of the sky to the western horizon, and Viktor realized they had been there for hours.
“I do not mean to disrespect your time,” she said.
“No – please do not apologise. I have enjoyed myself. Besides, this is my job,” he teased her with a simper and paid for the bill. Regardless of her insistence to do so, he was required to pay.
He stood as she did, and escorted her out of the tea house with her hand in the crook of his arm. They lingered outside, her driver waiting in the near distance.
“Will I see you again?” she asked.
“Whenever you would like,” he said.
She smiled and thought for a moment. “Perhaps I can audit one of your classes, Professor.”
He felt a warm thrill shiver through him at her words, and he choked down a laugh as he looked down and shook his head. “I – I don’t know. It would bore you.”
“You could never bore me.” She sought his eyes and met them happily.
He said nothing, but held her sights gently – seeing her as not only the girl with whom he grew up, but a woman who had become his friend once again.
“Goodbye, Viktor,” she said and turned to leave.
He watched her part ways, and watched as she entered her carriage, he made sure she was safe as she drove away. Something in him bore sadness as her carriage disappeared from his view. To hear the word ‘goodbye’ brought him grief. He realized he never again wanted to fall away from her presence.
She brought him goodness.