Beth froze??

After digesting all the knowledge he has consumed he decided to look at the clock in his room to see the time.12:30, perfect time for him to enjoy his nightly cold glass of milk.Habit he's picked up from his mother.

He padded down the stairs in the quiet Smith house, its walls humming with the soft, dulled echoes of a family too used to its dysfunction. In the kitchen, Viktor opened the fridge with the same smoothness he'd dismantle a gun, poured himself a cold glass of milk, and leaned against the counter to sip it slow. It wasn't the drink it was the ritual. The act of grounding. The silent control of habit.

That's when he noticed her.

Beth.

Sitting at the table in her work scrubs, hair slightly undone, sipping from a mug he knew wasn't coffee. Her eyes were on the table, distant, framed by faint shadows beneath them. Red wine in a mug, midnight, alone at the kitchen table predictable. And yet… not. She didn't glance up when he entered, and Viktor, ever the predator in a room, slid into the chair opposite her with a slow, fluid grace, setting his glass down quietly.

"Long day?" he asked, voice soft but pointed.

Beth gave a half-smile, glanced at him. "Long life."

He let a small hum escape, taking another sip. "Funny. You make it look manageable."

Beth snorted softly, shaking her head. "That's the trick. You fake it until you can't anymore."

There it was the faintest crack, barely a hairline fracture in the porcelain mask she wore. Viktor leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. "And when you can't?"

Beth met his gaze for a beat, her eyes tired but sharp. "You pour another drink."

He smiled faintly. "Or you do something about it."

Beth raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Viktor gave a casual shrug, every movement smooth, deliberate. "I've found people either wait for life to crush them or… they rearrange the board."

Beth let out a soft breath that was almost a laugh. "oh God you almost sound like my father."

"Your father's not wrong." Viktor's eyes held hers, calm, unwavering. "But you're not him. You're… better."

Beth blinked, caught off guard by the sharp honesty in his tone. She gave a small, skeptical smile. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or a manipulation."

"Why can't it be both?" Viktor replied gently.

Beth stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head with a soft chuckle. "Jesus, Morty. You're too sharp for your own good."

"I've been thinking," Viktor said, letting his voice drop a notch, just above a whisper. "About how you carry this family. About how none of them seem to notice."

Beth's smile thinned. "I've noticed."

"I know," he said. "And I know you've thought about… letting go."

Beth froze slightly, eyes narrowing a fraction. "What makes you say that?"

Viktor smiled, soft, knowing. "You're too smart not to have thought about divorcing Jerry."

Beth's shoulders sank the slightest bit, wine cup circling slowly in her hands.Raw honesty coming out of because of being a little tipsy."I have," she admitted, voice low. "More times than I can count."

Viktor leaned back slightly, giving her space, the faintest curve playing on his lips. "Then why haven't you?"

Beth exhaled slowly. "Because… because I'm tired. Because it's complicated. Because…" Her eyes softened with something dangerously close to self-contempt. "Because even when I want out, I feel responsible."

Viktor tilted his head, watching her carefully. "Responsible for what?"

Beth met his eyes. "For this family. For keeping it together. For being the only adult in a house full of… children."

He nodded slowly, letting her words hang. Then softly, he said, "You're not responsible for anyone but yourself, Beth."

She opened her mouth, hesitated.

"You've given enough," Viktor continued, voice smooth, low. "More than enough. And they've drained you. Jerry. Summer. Even Rick. And me… if I'm being honest."

Beth gave a soft, incredulous laugh. "Since when do you care about being honest?"

Viktor smiled faintly. "Since I realized honesty's just another tool. Sometimes it cuts cleaner."

Beth shook her head, but her smile lingered, tired, almost fond. "God, Morty… you're terrifying sometimes."

Viktor stood then, finishing his milk in one slow swallow. He stepped around the table, stopping beside her chair. Beth looked up, surprised when his hand brushed lightly over her shoulder a touch that lingered just a moment too long to be innocent, but too casual to be confrontational.

"You should sleep," he said quietly, voice brushing against the edges of her resolve. "Dark circles don't suit you."

Beth stared at him, words catching in her throat.

Viktor leaned in slightly not too close, just close enough and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. But the angle… the pause… it was far too near the corner of her lips. Almost touching it.

Beth froze.

Viktor pulled back, calm, smooth, as if nothing unusual had happened, setting his empty glass in the sink with a soft clink. "Goodnight, Beth."

She swallowed, eyes flicking to him in a haze of unspoken questions.

He walked away before she could ask a single one.

And Beth…

Beth sat there, staring at the swirl of red in her mug, her mind turning slow, looping over the moment.

Because even if she wanted to call it harmless…

She couldn't ignore how it made her feel.

And Viktor?

He didn't even glance back.

__________

I know some of you guys are fed up with this slice of life... And l hear you but you guys need to give me sometime to flush Viktor character properly so when he kill some innocent you guy won't be like

" ohhh he killed him"

you be like

"AHH l knew it"