You stifled a yawn in the crook of your elbow and looked over the horizon with bleary eyes. "Beautiful sunset."

"Hm? What- Oh, yes. Lovely."

Viktor spared the view a fleeting glance and you a tired smile before returning to the paperwork splayed across his lap.

Countless shades blue and purple and pink and orange of blurred into one another to form an effortless ombre of sky. Pink clouds blended almost seamlessly with the vibrant hues, distinguishable only by the faint smudges of shadow along their sides. The world was glazed in a dark kind of light, the kind that lingered after long days.

Your fingers itched to capture the image somewhere, immortalise it on paper, but the graphite pencil that sat in your hand could do the colours no glory. You mourned the lack of your watercolours, having left them at home.

Soon, the sunsets would begin to grow rare. Winter had melted away, leaving only a slight bite to the night air and a closet full of unused scarves. The days were growing longer, moon growing scarce. As much as you were a sucker for sunsets, you weren't dedicated enough to stay up into the ungodly hours to witness them.

Sighing, you stretched your stiff arms, casting a glance at Viktor as you did so. He sat hunched opposite, brow low, scouring over a complex equation of some sort judging by the snippets of mumbled thoughts you caught. He frowned, squinted, then scribbled something out, lead scratching against paper.

You didn't want to disturb his work, but you still wanted to do something. Sitting still had never particularly been your forté.

You twiddled your pencil between your index finger and thumb, searching for inspiration. Looking around the little nook, you discovered you were surrounded by not-fun-to-draw darkness on both sides: the tunnel and cogs on one, the darkening cityscape on the other.

You were never too good at drawing people. They all either looked the same - had the same eyes and jaw and mildly pensive expression on their face - or moved around too much to get a jist of what they actually looked like. That's why you liked landscapes. They were still, unmoving save for the tiniest of details.

But Viktor was still. He moved in acute, subtle movements, barely noticable. You thought back to your first encounter, in which your initial thought had been something along the lines of 'He'd be nice to draw'.

It wouldn't hurt to try, right?

You brought your knees up, resting your sketchpad against them and effectively hiding it from view. Then, after a moment's inspection, you twirled your pencil into place and began.

You stole quick glances here and there, checking the proportions. Gradually, the rough outline took shape. The light began to fade, so slowly you didn't really notice until you had to squint.

After the best part of half an hour spent sketching, you looked up for the bajillionth time.

And, for the first time, he was looking back.

You blinked. Caught.

He frowned, though the curve of his lip was tinged with something humorous. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Nothing," you replied too quickly to be inconspicuous.

A crease appeared between his eyebrows. "Is there something on my face?"

"No."

"Then why are you-"

You eyes unconsciously jumped to your page and, to your dismay, his sharp gaze caught the small movement.

"Are you... drawing me?"

Caught. Again.

"And if I was..?" you said slowly.

"I would be very flattered." He leant forwards, attempting to get a peek. You let the sketchpad flop into your chest, hidden. He frowned, but was undeterred. "Are you?"

You shrugged. "You're going to have to wait and see," you said. "And maybe tilt your head to the right a little bit. You've moved."

Mildly amused, he did as told. "Better?"

You smiled. "Better."

Now your task was public, you found your gazes met frequently. Each time he gave you a small smile and a raise of his eyebrows that asked is it done?. Each time, you found it harder and harder to look back to the paper.

"Are you nearly finished?" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth. The charade had been going on for ten minutes or so, and it was now definitely 'nighttime'.

"You're allowed to move," you said. "I can finish it another time, really."

"No, no. I don't want to disrupt your process."

"And I don't want you to catch a cold," you countered. And with that, you snapped the sketch book shut, half-done sketch inside.

"But what if my nose ends up looking wonky?" His expression was so genuinely concerned, you laughed.

"It'll look lovely either way," you said. "I'll make sure of it. Besides, give it another ten minutes and I'd barely be able to see you."

"Ah." He glanced around, as if suddenly noticing the pitch black that had replaced the warm light of day. "Sorry for keeping you."

"It's fine. Means I get to see the stars."

You shrugged you coat tighter around you as you attempted to pack up, near blind in the dark.

The trek to the tunnel that connected the lookout to the street was, as usual, dark, damp, and disorentating. You'd taken to trailing on hand along the wall to ensure you didn't get lost. The stone was cold and vaguely slimy, sending goosebumps up your arm.

More than once you stumbled on fissures and shallow holes. Viktor stopped each time. You couldn't see him - only a vague outline here and there - but heard the rhythmic tap tap of his cane pause until you were moving again.

The echoing combination of your footsteps and the dripping water sounded like the ticking of a clock. Click, clack - drip...click, clack - drip.

At last, the relieving sight of light appeared, and the tunnel opened up onto the street. You swore each time it got slightly longer, slightly damper.

Usually you parted ways there, Viktor turning one way and you the other, but that night, he hesitated.

"I was wondering..." he started, then paused, allowing silence to swallow his sentence. He appeared to think intently about something for so long you weren't sure if he was going to speak again.

"Yes?" you prompted.

"I won't be able to make it next week. There's somethings I need to attend to. I need to pick up some equipment, and I was wondering if you'd be able to help - schedule permitting, of course."

"Yeah, that'd be fine. Is Jayce not available, though? I'm not the best at heavy objects."

"He..." He drew the word out, face contorting. "... doesn't know. He wouldn't approve, most likely."

"Oh." You frowned. "Why?"

"Well, the equipment is only sold at a certain shop in..." He mumbled the last part, too quiet for you to hear.

"What was that?"

He mumbled it again, a bit louder this time, but you thought you misheard.

"What? I thought you just said the Undercity."

"I did."

You couldn't help a surprised "Oh" slip from your lips.

He winced.

"Is that... allowed?"

"Eh... probably not."

"You can't go alone," you said, immediately surprised by your bluntness.

"Why?" You were taken aback his tone, uncharacteristically sharp; defensive, almost.

"It's- You could- what if something happens?"

He sighed, folding his arms around his middle against the cold. "I know what it's like, there. It's not what people believe it to be. Not all of it."

You found it bewildering how defensive he was. Though you'd never been to the darker side of the city yourself - let alone even considered it, you knew how dangerous it was. Gangs ruled tyrannical, toxic gases filled the air. Rumors told of a new, dangerously addictive drug suffocating the streets. What was so important Viktor would potentially endanger himself to get it?

"I plan to leave early," he said, then added for clarification, "Just letting you know. I don't want to force your hand."

"Okay," you said quietly. You felt as if you'd touched a nerve, though weren't sure why.

Just then, the streetlights blinked on for the night, bathing the street in an orange glow. Shadows deepened in corners and alleys.

"I will see you, if not next week, in a fortnight's time," Viktor said with a curt nod.

You bade your farewells and parted ways. You were so engrossed in your thoughts you almost turned the wrong way. The mood of the night had turned murky; not necessarily 'sour' - somewhere between uneasy and odd.

Internally you were conflicted. Should you go? Should you not? He had asked you specifically - by the sound of it, no one knew other than yourself. Did he want you to come with him? Or had it been intended as a passing comment, to ensure that someone knew about his whereabouts incase he-

You couldn't bear to think about it.

Once home, you sat and wandered aimlessly, thinking, thinking, thinking. It was only when the first hints of morning had began to tint the sky that you fell into a shallow, fitful sleep.