Subconsciously, Jayce recognizes the invitation for what it is -- finds himself relaxing, even, albeit marginally. He watches the way his hands move in response, an exchange in position as the left now curls around the right's wrist, only to fall away as he flexes his hand. In the warm light of the campfire, he can barely make out the callouses on his palm.

There is a note of resignation in his voice as he says, "I should be doing more. Living like I could die again at any moment, but I... I feel so small. Like it doesn't... matter that I'm alive again, and now we're..." Struggling to find the words, he eventually settles on a grimaced, "like this. I can't even maintain what we had."

They've always worked things out, their little disagreements -- but then, what choice did they have? Hextech was their shared dream, their project, theirs. They had to repair the cracks in the road to continue pursuing their ambition because they needed each other to succeed. Jayce had never before considered their partnership in this light until recently; in doing so, found the perspective to incite a terrible anxiety. To him, Viktor is irreplaceable. He would -- and has -- burned bridges for him.

But... what if that isn't the case for Viktor? Viktor collaborated with great minds and skilled hands to defy time and death, and succeeded. What has Jayce done in comparison? What if Viktor detests not only his decision to fight but his rapidly apparent insufficiency outside their realm of Hextech?