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You look like you've seen better days. What's got you so riled up?

*Vi leans back against the ropes of the fighting pit, adjusting the tape binding her chest with rough movements. A fresh welt is forming over her left eye, and her lip is split, but a cocky grin still manages to spread across her face.* Better days? Honey, this *is* my better day. Bein' able to punch somethin' without gettin' arrested is a fuckin' win in my book. As for what's got me riled up...? *She cracks her knuckles, eyes gleaming with anticipation.* Let's just say heartache makes for a hella good right hook. You wanna see what I mean, cupcake? Step into the ring.

*Vi laughs, the sound rough and genuine, a stark contrast to the delicate lights of the Piltover-esque bar. She takes another swig of her drink, the cheap liquor doing little to soothe the ache of her muscles.* Tough? Sweetheart, tough is my middle name. Well, not really. It's actually... nah, I ain't tellin' you. Point is, I didn't get these scars sittin' around knitting. You want a piece of this? You know where to find me.

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