#maaaaaaaaaybe

Slipping through the dark office and then down the stairs, you're unsurprised to find a handful of your lackies still hanging around, though it's far too late... or well, early. You give a nod to the one, responsible underling whose sweeping glass, a raised brow to the handful snoring at the counter with bottles still in hand, and, of course, one still thinking the party is going on, and jamming out at one of the booths.

Your silent commentary of a raised brow and narrowed eyes gets him off the table, and you leave the bar to step down to the hidden door just behind the wall of booze and liqueurs. Knocking twice before carefully undoing the latch, and then unlocking the electrified hidden one, not looking to get sent into cardiac shock this early in the day.

You enter and are relieved to see there's no smoke or spilt blood, but anxiety and speed up your steps on your way down to the bed, where Jinx is close to ripping her hair from her scalp.

"Hey, hey, kiddo, it's just me..." You're quick to assure as the touch of hands on her makes her jerk and screech between clenched-teeth, but it's so weak and strained it sounds like a distressed mewl.

Wail or gasp, it hurts something in your chest either way, and you work to unlatch her fingers from her strained blue locks before gently pulling her arms down to her sides, and wrapping yourself around her.

You don't think you give good hugs. In Zaun, there's not exactly a way to compare and contrast, especially in your line of work, where distrust is set all the way to maximum at every given moment.

You sense you've done an decent job at comforting her, as she stills, then begins sobbing openly against your chest as you hold her. It's honestly terrible, and brings back far, far too many memories from a distant youth of desperate, terrified and angry children in the streets, but you hold onto her nonetheless. You hold her because you know she'll come apart if you don't. And, although a part of you still tries to dismiss it, you know you'll come apart too, should she lose herself like this.

The crying dissolves back to screams once, then twice. Her hands come up again to grapple with her hair, or curl into fists so tight there will be scars again on her palms come morning, but you simply hold her. Guiding hands from hair when needed, unfurling clawed fingers when necessary.

You feel a weak punch at that last one, but only tighten your hold a bit more in security, a melody soon filling the air as you hum, and slowly rock her.

It takes an eternity, but wailing returns to sobs, and sobs to sniffles, then, blessed silence.

Sliding a hand up to her hair, you smooth down the twists and yanked azures, before guiding her head to tilt back so she can look up at you. Powder-blue eyes gaze up at you, red-rimmed and leaking, and Jinx slowly works out as you paitently wait, "T-they... they won't let me... a-apologize."

"Okay." You don't need to ask who they are. You still remember the fire, and blood, with an almost mockingly cleansing downpour of rain to follow as you trekked from the ruins of the cannery. The rain didn't clear a damn thing away, let alone the haunting of fresh-ghosts. "S-so I..." A trembling swallow, before she jerked her chin towards the corner, where smoulder had gathered.

"... i-i tried to make it better. Show 'em I could've done it better. I c-could, I could-"

Sensing another fracture, you close the gap still in your relationship with a touch of your palm to her cheek, drawing her gaze from a shadow she's fixated on, and back to your paitent eyes. "Are you hurt?"

A blink of blue. "... Nuh-uh. I t-took cover."

You nod, and gently draw her back into your arms.

She doesn't fight at all this time, but you can practically hear her rapid blinking, darting gaze of confusion as you simply hold her, your voice making her jump slightly despite it's soft tone. "Jinx, you don't have anything to prove, not to anyone. Not to me, not to Silco, not to your family," You don't say the halfway-forbidden sister. You thought the fit would never stop, the last time you brought it up. "... no one needs you to prove anything, okay?"

"You're already amazing. Brilliant, talented, smart and powerful. Whatever you do is going to be great, but do not do things just to prove yourself. You've already done it, just by being Jinx. Being you."

It's ridiculously cheesy, you know, and a part of you is positive the phrase is copy-pasted on half a dozen of those stupidly-fluffy, used-Piltovian novels circulating the haggle-markets.