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It's another successful Progress Day, with a bright clear sky and bustling crowds flooding in from all over Runeterra. Yet for once Mel Medarda isn't focused on the new technology. Instead her attention is on the woman by her side.
It had taken a lot of delicate string pulling to secure Piltover's sheriff as her escort, but it was well worth the effort. Grayson is clearly suspicious that her requested presence is the result of some sort of political entanglement she's not privy to, but luckily she doesn't seem to mind.
They walk together from stall to stall, too often stopped by sycophants wanting to bend Mel's ear. More than once she apologises to Grayson for the bore of it, but the sheriff always has a dry sally at the ready.
Mel knows just what to do when they approach a shooting range. No one will bother them here, and she can finally see Grayson's vaunted skills with a rifle.
'I feel terrible for saying this, but I've always felt like it's a shame that I've never had cause to see you in action,' she says as she stops by the counter. The prizes hang overhead, all larger and flashier than the next. Grayson gives her an appraising look, but Mel doesn't falter. 'I've heard so much about your marksmanship... Surely you'll grace me with a demonstration?'
Grayson scoffs, looks at the rifle the hopeful shopkeep has brought over for them, and shakes her head.
'Councillor, you do realise this is a toy, yes? It'll be a miracle if I can hit anything.'
'Don't sell yourself short, Sheriff.'
Grayson's lips twitch, her hazel eyes brightening as the faintest of smiles fleets across her face. She snatches the rifle with a gloved hand and surveys it closely, looking down its barrel before loading it.
Mel crosses her arms, back straight and an easy smile on her face, expectant but careful not to look as excited as she feels.
Grayson misses the first target. Only the first.
Mel's posture stiffens with every shot, her eyes widening with each ping of pellets on metal plates, as all the targets collapse as soon as they appear. All but that first miss.
Grayson huffs, lowering the rifle. 'I needed to adjust,' she says, like she'd need to justify herself.
'Ah, don't worry ma'am, you're still winning the big prize! I haven't seen anyone this good in... ever.'
'Thank you.'
Grayson accepts the prize—an enormous plushie of a blue poro—before turning to Mel.
'I believe this is yours,' she says, pushing it into her arms.
Mel blinks rapidly, shaking herself in time to give Grayson a careful smile.
'Thank you... I— I see your reputation was not exaggerated.'
Grayson returns her smile, a hint of smugness in it. 'I don't know what you've heard, but you should see me shoot with my own gun one of these days.'
'I'd like that,' Mel whispers as she squeezes the giant poro. 'I'll look forward to it.'