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Lynette wandered the streets after she fled home – more specifically, her brother.
Lyney was driving her insane. Lyney was sick, so he was fluttering around Lynette’s head asking how she felt, if she had a fever, if she needed anything. Lyney was stressed, so he kept checking in on her while she was trying (and failing) to take a nap. Lyney was hungry, so he tried to take her to lunch. Lyney was cold, so he brought her a blanket. He was doing everything except address his own problems and instead pushed them off onto her .
So, Lynette bribed Helior (more like gave permission) to lace her dearest, damndest brother’s cold potion with something that would keep him indoors. She didn’t care what Helior did so long as it kept Lyney out of her hair for at least an hour.
She took the opportunity to brood outdoors, making her way to the shopping district to pick up some desserts. She hated that Lyney wouldn’t just tell her what was stuck in his head that had him strung out so badly. It was probably that Father was making preparations for him to replace her, which Lyney still hadn’t decided to share with the rest of the family, but it could also be literally anything else. He could’ve even started brand new problems behind Lynette’s back! He’d grown into such a talented liar and it was getting harder and harder to figure him out – not like when they were kids. He couldn’t keep anything from her as a kid.
Lynette grimaced and tried to ignore the fact that she was now physically distancing herself from him. She needed a break from worrying about him worrying about her before they somehow dragged Freminet into it. Their sibling picked up on the slightest tension and hovered at the edge of it, so desperately wanting to fix, and she didn’t have the energy to comfort him while fending off Lyney right now. Maybe she’d go to the cat cafe and waste time there until someone came looking for her.
Lynette walked alone through the streets, weaving through the throng of oblivious passerbys. Nobody noticed her out of stage clothes, not when she tucked her ears under her hat and held her tail like a strange yet fashionable belt instead of a part of her. She hated not being able to hear as well, but she hated curious stares about as much and, well, Lyney had frayed her interpersonal nerves raw.
She scanned the crowd for threats and targets out of habit. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d stumbled on someone the family was hunting in broad daylight, and while she really didn’t want to work right now, she couldn’t help but alert on a familiar, broad back.
Lynette followed the flow of the crowd until free of the riptide, slipping to the sides and looping back around to approach.
There was… Wriothesley, out and about on the surface buying groceries. How strange. Lynette would’ve assumed he had people for that. She watched him for a bit, the tip of her tail flicking idly so she didn’t seem too still to onlookers.
Ah. He was buying tea. Lynette nodded to herself as the pieces fell into place. This was not something to send someone else to do… though, had he already gone through the ten cases Neuvillette bought him? How much tea did this man drink?
Lynette went from watching his hands to checking his face. She raised an eyebrow. He had four fresh scars in perfect parallel across the right side of his face, scraped from the top edge of his lip to his temple while narrowly avoiding his eye. Father had mentioned paying a visit to the Fortress of Meropide to give her thanks for teaching Lyney a lesson about relying too much on himself, but had neglected to mention the details. It wasn’t difficult to extrapolate.
Lynette sighed. If only Lyney had taken the lesson to heart.
Oh well. She didn’t have anything better to do, so she flicked her ears under her hat to dispel the worries and approached. Wriothesly was engrossed in his shopping – not enough to be completely oblivious – people like them simply never let their guard down all the way – but enough that she was able to slip into his personal space before speaking. “Father must really respect you if she let you keep your eye.”
She expected stoicism. Instead, he jumped so hard that it scared her . She had moved back a good three feet by the time Wriothesly turned to address her.
“AUGH! Furina’s tiny tits, woman, you scared the shit out of me!”
“I can see that,” she replied, keenly aware of every hair on her tail standing on end. A few people had paused to shoot them looks of varied concern, irritation and curiosity.
Wriothesley clapped a hand to his chest and doubled over with an exaggerated gasp. “Phew… you’re not here to finish the job, are you? One more of those and I should drop dead of a heart attack.”
She chuckled nervously, not exactly thrilled with the many eyes on them. He knew what he was doing by making a spectacle. “There’s no job to finish. Father doesn’t leave jobs half done, and if she did, I wouldn’t greet you with words, Your Grace.”
He looked up at her from his stoop, hand still to his chest, and rolled his eyes with a mean grin contrary to his supposed terror. “Oh, please, we’re in the civilized world. Wriothesley is fine.”
He spit the word ‘civilized’ like a slur. The sudden kinship was enough to smooth her tail. The two looked at each other for a moment and, without further drama to gawk over, their curious audience turned away.
Lynette already had a good opinion of Wriothesley, certainly better than her brother did, but it only improved. “Alright, Your Grace, what brings you to the surface?”
He narrowed his eyes slightly at her, then broke into a big grin. He gestured broadly at the stall. “Well, as I’m sure you were spying, it’s time for groceries. I’m, ah, getting a bit sick of the same tea for a month straight.”
She nodded and returned to a step outside his personal space. “Mm. I like the bulle fruit and vanilla black tea here.”
“Do you now?”
He was already reaching for it. Lynette said, “It goes well with desserts.”
“I bet it does.” He tucked two boxes into his elbow.
She thought it was strange he’d get two. “Have you had it before?”
“Mm, this one specifically? No. But, I like all of those things individually. I’m sure I can tolerate them together.” He picked out two more boxes – a milk tea blend imported from Inazuma and some heavily spiced Sumeran tea – then went to pay.
Lynette watched him. She could leave him be, she didn’t have anything pressing to ask him, nor was there any intelligence she could bleed out of him at the moment, but he returned too quickly for her to make up her mind.
Wriothesley shrugged the bag he’d been holding out of sight onto his shoulder, the corners of the tea boxes bulging through the melusine-pattered fabric. It was very cute. It looked entirely out of place on his person. “Thank you for the recommendation,” he said. “How’ve you been?”
Eugh. Small talk. “Fine.”
Wriothesley proceeded to throw the usual script in the garbage. He scratched his jaw, the stubble there making an audible sound while he looked around the plaza. “It’s strange to see you without your brother. I assume he's lurking on a roof somewhere with a gun trained on my head?”
Lynette let out a hiss of laughter, surprising herself. “No, no, he doesn’t like guns. They’re not romantic enough,” she said and stuck her tongue out.
Wriothesley cracked his knuckles. It wasn’t a threat. Much like Father, and the rest of their family, defensive posturing had become second nature. Self soothing, even. He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it. “Hm. I suppose I can understand that, though I figured you lot were all about efficiency.”
“Normally, yes, but we need to have fun somehow.”
He grinned and shook his head. “So when do you start sniper training for the toddlers?”
“As soon as they can hold a gun. We don’t expect the five year olds to fistfight adults, after all.”
Wriothesley laughed, deep and genuine, and rolled his shoulders. “Oh, what I wouldn’t have given to grow up like you did... seriously though, where’s your brother? Er, the blood one.”
Lynette pinned her ears back against her head, which nobody else could see through the hat. Still, her default expression adequately expressed her current emotion. “If the gods actually listen to prayers, he’s at home. If we were put in this world just to suffer, he’s probably looking for me.”
Wriothesley raised an eyebrow. “Did you two have an argument or something?”
“No, he’s just driving me crazy.”
“How so?”
“Sibling stuff,” she said in the tone reserved for getting her little siblings to stop asking her the same question over and over. She liked Wriothesley, but not enough to share anything actually important.
Wriothesley chewed on his lip, dangerously close to an existing split. “And what about the other brother? Freminet.”
“Sibling,” she corrected. “He’s fine, as far as I know.”
Wriothesley winced almost imperceptibly as he broke the scab and crossed his arms, discreetly licking away the blood that bubbled out. “As far as you know?”
Lynette copied his stance, crossing her own arms and leaning back onto her heels. She’d taught Lyney the same trick. People subconsciously liked it when you mirrored them. “I don't keep tabs on him unless something is wrong, which means he’s probably fine. I’m sure I’ll hear about it if I’m wrong.”
Wriothesley nodded like he understood. People did that a lot when they weren’t actually listening to her and were instead just waiting for an opportunity to talk more about themselves, but he seemed to use the gesture correctly. “Huh. Well I hope things continue to go well. He seemed like a nice kid.”
Lynette also nodded. “He is.”
Wriothesley uncrossed his arms and put both fists on his hips, glancing around the plaza. “So… did you scare me a few years closer to death for a reason or were you just saying hi?”
The corner of her mouth quirked up and her tail uncoiled from around her waist. “No, I just needed to get out of the house and you were here. Oblivious.”
His grin grew to match the amusement she felt. “Yes, yes. I shouldn’t get caught slacking. God forbid I trust I won’t be assaulted in broad daylight. Since you’re here and I am clearly helpless, why don’t you take me on a tour of what the surface has to offer? The place changes every goddamn time I come up.”
Lynette frowned, an automatic response to being volunteered for social work. Before she could say anything, Wriothesley held up a finger. “Of course, I’ll owe you a favor.”
She raised an eyebrow, now intrigued. “What kind of favor?”
“What kind of favor do you want?”
“Records on every Fatui agent that’s been arrested and any personal belongings that were confiscated,” she deadpanned.
Wriothesley popped his lips and slapped his hand on his thigh, then patted it a few times. “You know, I was thinking more like… dinner? Maybe something that won’t get the government mad at me?”
Lynette dropped one arm to her side to hang by her hip and held her elbow with the other hand, her tail swishing behind her. “I thought you made the rules down there.”
“I do, but I don’t like seeing Monsieur Neuvillette’s sad face. Makes me feel like I kicked a puppy or something.”
She couldn’t help but snort. “Understandable,” she said, then studied him even more carefully than she had been. He was patiently waiting for her answer, one hand on his hip, his incredibly girly bag hanging from his shoulder, the other hand held aloft. When she took a moment to reply, he relaxed back into his default stance: weight evenly distributed on his feet, the hand that was on his hip slipped into his pocket, the other thumb hooked through a belt loop. Relaxed, or possibly defensive, but not aggressive. He did this all with a pleasant boredom on his face. Even when he leaned forward earlier, he didn’t feel like he was looming . Lynette felt like she could tell him no and he’d just shrug and move on with his day.
So, she said, “Very well. I accept dinner as payment for being your tour guide.”
Wriothesley smiled, closing his eyes in a friendly way, then invited himself to her side. “Great! So, you got any idea where I can find an apothecary? Sigewinne asked me to pick some things up for her.”
He fell into step slightly behind and to her left, chattering idly when he actually wanted to talk about something and staying quiet when he didn’t. Just the right amount to not overwhelm or bore her. Lynette appreciated that he was careful to stay in her peripheral vision and also didn’t crowd her. The most he did was step forward at a particularly busy intersection, standing up straighter and walking with more purpose just like Father did when she wanted people to move out of her way. Lynette slipped into the break in the tide he made for her, then resumed leading him once free of the crowd.
It was nice. Of course Lynette made the occasional prodding question to get information out of him, but she was purposefully tactless in her approach. Wriothesley just laughed and gave her vague non-answers and she did the same when he asked about her family. A fun game, poking at each others’ defenses in glaringly obvious ways. Sparring, even. Practice for people with worse intentions.
When they finally got to dinner, they even felt like friends. Lynette had debated whether to take him to her favorite cafe. She wasn’t thrilled with the idea of a stranger knowing where she spent her free time, but she decided she wouldn’t mind if he showed up unexpectedly in the future. Perhaps she could even get more free food out of him.
After seating themselves at one of the outdoor tables, Lynette only bothered to pick up her menu because Wriothesley did. “So, do you come to the surface often?”
“Do I look like I do?” He glanced up from his menu with a raised eyebrow, pulling one sleeve back to expose the lack of tan line. Before she could feel like she’d said something wrong, he smiled and returned to deciding what he wanted to eat. “I think that’s gonna change, though. Miss Sigewinne’s been on my ass about a vitamin D deficiency. I went ahead and ordered some broad spectrum lights while I’m up here, but it’ll take a while for them to get made. I can’t imagine scurvy is good for the inmates.”
Lynette squinted at him, letting her decorative menu fall. “...Scurvy is for vitamin C.”
Wriothesley paused, glancing off into the middle distance briefly before shrugging and returning to his menu. “Welp. Guess the lady at the shop thinks I’m a fucking idiot then. Is the barbeque here any good?”
Lynette frowned and looked down at her menu. “They have barbeque?”
“Apparently.”
So they did. She had not once noticed that, though she also had not once deviated from her usual order since the first time she found something that she liked. The extent of her adventurousness was stealing food from her brother’s plate.
The waiter came shortly after and took their orders, doing a double take at the mention of barbeque. They scribbled the order down with some hesitance, mouthing a prayer as they left.
The two of them watched the waiter leave, Wriothesley leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “You saw that too, right?”
After watching the waiter scurry into the kitchen, Lynette calmly looked away and took a sip of the water they brought, her tail flicking to undermine her stoicism. “I volunteer as successor to the Fortress of Meropide. I’ll make sure they know what happened to you.”
Wriothesley nodded sagely. “Thank you. I appreciate it. Be sure to give my tea to Clorinde and everything else I own to Sigewinne.”
“I’m keeping your tea.”
“I’m not even in the ground yet and you’re already claiming my things?!” he mock-gasped.
Lynette chuckled to herself. Most people were so incredibly boring to talk to – either entirely and unearnedly self absorbed, completely inept at conversation or offput by her delivery. She only got to joke around like this with members of her own family, and even then only some of them. “I’m keeping your bag, too. It’s cute.”
Wriothesley propped his cheek on his fist. He looked so completely different from his usual Duke persona, but still the same person. “Thanks. Sigewinne made it.”
“You two seem… close,” Lynette hazarded. There was a lot of gossip about the nature of their relationship, both from people that knew them and people that didn’t. People that didn’t know them tended to claim that Wriothesley was her father figure. People that had met them tended to suggest… something that looked significantly more unfortunate. Lynette knew the melusine was both older and more mature than any of the people casting judgment, but she couldn’t deny it was an uncomfortable image. Not her place to criticize, or care enough to have an opinion on, but she was curious.
“Yeah!” Wriothesley beamed. “She basically raised me.”
Oh, no. That was so much worse. Lynette coughed. “Well now I really hope you two aren’t fucking.”
Wriothesley was silent for a moment, his expression blank and eyes wide before he erupted into laughter. He slapped the table once and buried his head in his crossed arms while his shoulders shook, struggling to get himself under control. It was a wonderful sound – deep and loud until he choked it off into strained giggles. Lynette couldn’t help but snicker watching him.
He came up for air eventually, tears in his eyes, and leveled his hand at her. “No. No, I am not fucking my mom.”
The waiter took that exact moment to arrive with their food, staring openly at Wriothesley before delicately setting their plates down and leaving without a word.
“I said I’m NOT fucking my mom!” Wriothesley yelled after them.
Lynette closed her eyes to compose herself, biting her lip to keep from smiling, her hands clasped tightly in her lap while she breathed in deep through her nose. Once she trusted herself to speak, she said, “I didn’t expect you to be such a momma’s boy.”
“And I didn’t expect you to be so vulgar,” he shot back playfully. “Guess it must be nice to let loose without all the kids around, huh?”
Lynette shook her head and started cutting into her pastry. “Please. The littles grew up like we did. They teach me new swear words.”
Wriothesley finished his giggling and inspected his barbeque, experimentally poking it with his fork. “Must be nice. We don’t get a lot of kids in the Fortress, thankfully. Kinda miss my siblings though.”
They lapsed into silence after that, each focused on consumption. Lynette admired the way he hunched over his food – elbows on either side of his plate, forearms up as a barrier, his torso curled over it. It was by far the most aggressive posture he’d had of the entire day. Hell, it was the most aggressive posture she’d ever seen him in. Even she didn’t want to attempt stealing a bite no matter how funny it would be or how curious she was about the barbeque.
He noticed her watching after a few minutes and cut a tiny piece of meat off, then set it on the edge of his plate for her to take. He scooted the rest of his meal back towards himself and withdrew so he wasn’t looming over the offering.
Lynette looked down her nose at the morsel, contemplative. Wriothesley did not seem to particularly enjoy his meal, only eating it because it was in front of him, and more importantly she didn’t want to feel compelled to share hers. Stil, she was curious.
After meeting his eyes for permission, Lynette reached out with her fork. He tensed slightly as she approached and she waited for him to start eating again before darting out to stab the offered portion. She retreated just as fast and stuffed it in her mouth before he could change his mind, chewing reflectively. It took a few moments for her to come to a decision. Once she did, she expressed it with all the gravity it deserved. “Ew.”
Wriothesley sighed and sat back in his chair, looking down disappointedly at his plate. “Yeah… we have better barbeque in prison.”
“Do you want to order something else?
He gestured sadly at the meat. “I’d feel like a quitter. I’m committed.”
“Literally everything else on the menu is better than that,” Lynette deadpanned.
He scoffed. “Like you’ve had anything else on the menu.”
Lynette’s tail lashed and she narrowed her eyes at him. She hunched over her own food and took a savage bite, then flicked a piece of pastry at him. It bounced once before landing squarely in the middle of his plate.
“How generous,” he said, picking it up with his fingers to avoid getting that horrible sauce on it, then popped it in his mouth. Lynette watched his face as he chewed twice. He did not have an expression of relief or joy. He looked tired. He sighed. He wordlessly beckoned the waiter over and, in a voice heavy with defeat, asked, “Can I get an order of what she has?”
Once Wriothesley got ahold of something edible, it didn’t take long for them to finish dinner. Lynette was already done with her food by the time he got his, having an entire orphanage worth of siblings to contend with and being a master of making things disappear, but Wriothesley wolfed down his portion in record time. She politely looked elsewhere while he ate. Most people disliked being stared at while vulnerable.
Once done, satisfied and full, Wriothesley handed the bill and they stood together. Lynette nodded her gratitude. “Thank you for paying for my company.”
“Please don’t say it like that,” he chuckled and shook his head. “Anyway, would you like me to walk you home?”
“No.”
She really didn’t intend to spit it like she did, and the realization of what she'd just done had her ears pinned against her head and her tail bristling. He just bought her dinner. He could follow her for being rude and she’d lead him right to her family. She managed to keep the fear off of her face, but just barely. Wriothesley, however, didn’t seem to take the slightest offense to her tone. He just gave her a pleasant smile and waved.
“Alright then! Thanks for showing me around. Get home safe. I’d say see you soon, but– well. That’s saying I hope you get arrested. Don’t do that.”
Her hackles relaxed at his calm tone. “If you pay me, I suppose I could show you a good time again.”
“You realize that’s even worse than the first version, right.”
Lynette smirked, still a bit too rattled to speak without clear direction. She could say a dozen things in response. She could laugh, or she could be overly literal, or she could start a completely different avenue of conversation. Unfortunately her brain was still trying to process that nothing bad was going to happen and was completely useless at offering a suggestion.
Wriothesley glanced down at his half eaten barbecue in the silence, grimacing before he gave her a hopeful look. “You wouldn’t happen to have pets, would you? Maybe… ones you don’t like very much?”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Lynette nodded and scraped the meat into a togo bag. Normally she wouldn’t care and would just announce that she was shutting down, to hell with everyone else, but she liked him. She was grateful for the conversational lead. “My little brother Foltz has a cat we told him not to get.
Wriothesley stepped away from the table to give her more space to collect the leftovers and crossed his arms. “Ah, your strict Father not a fan of pets?”
Interesting. He got the inflection on Father right. “Mm… no. It’s because he strangled his last pets. That’s why he’s with us. His parents threw him out for it.”
“Oh.” Wriothesley was quiet for a moment after that, tapping his foot while Lynette finished scraping the leftovers off of his plate. She was waiting for the usual response, but instead he said, “So what do you even do for a kid like that? Do you put them in therapy or what?”
Lynette looked off to the side, declining to mention her little brother’s other worrying behavior. “Uh, honestly we’re still figuring it out. We don’t know if he doesn’t realize that animals are alive or if he just doesn’t care. He seems to love this cat though.”
Wriothesley had a different tone when he spoke next. Tentative, edging around her like he was worried she’d bite. “No offense, but… I think that might be something you should get some outside help for.”
In a rare display of genuine emotion to an outsider, Lynette slumped forward with a grimace. “Yeah… We might have to.”
Wriothesley remained quiet until she finished, then chuckled warmly. “Alright, well, good luck with your little serial killer in the making. Glad you guys got ahold of him before he turned into a problem. I better get going, but I’ll be back topside next Sunday to pick up the lights. You’re welcome to join me.”
She couldn’t identify the feeling in her chest hearing him talk about her brother like that. He sounded… actually affectionate? Most people reacted with abject horror. One lunatic had even suggested they drown Foltz to get rid of him once. She tried not to care, and usually she didn’t, but sometimes it still got to her – especially when it was someone whose opinion she actually cared about. Lyney had been inconsolable after introducing the Traveler and Paimon to some of their family.
She was selfishly happy that he was the one to find out they weren’t as… understanding as they had hoped. She wasn’t sure she could’ve kept up her facade as well as her brother and, even if she did, she probably wouldn’t have remembered much of what happened after she went into forced standby mode.
Speaking of, she was on the verge of a forced standby mode right now. Lynette would have to figure out her emotions later. For now, she held the barbeque up to her chest and nodded sharply. “Understood. I may have a mission, but if not–”
“No worries,” Wriothesley said breezily. He shrugged his overloaded bag back onto his shoulder, leaning slightly with the weight of everything he bought for Sigewinne. “See you when I see you. Get home safe. I’d say tell your brother I said hi, but he’d probably have an aneurysm. Tell the other one though– sibling. Freminet. Tell Freminet I said hi.”
She stood there for a moment, attempting to process the fuzziness before declaring it futile. In the blandest tone imaginable, she said, “Bye Wriothesley. I’ll let Freminet know you asked about him.”
Wriothesley lit up on hearing his name, grinning wide before he turned on his heel to leave. He waved once more over his shoulder and then he was gone. Lynette stood there for a few minutes, watching where he had disappeared into the crowd and ensuring he was completely out of sight before she made the journey back home. She took a torturous route out of habit, ducking into alleys, doubling back on redundant roads and even taking a short stint over a roof before arriving back at the House of Hearth.
She stared at the double doors for a moment, undefinable feelings swirling around in her head and body while she clutched the absolutely dogshit barbeque to her chest. Her family’s laughter drifted in through the open window, Lyney’s indignant yowling overlaying it all as Helior no doubt tried to dose him with more cold medicine.
She hadn’t decided yet, but she kinda hoped he’d drive her insane next Sunday, too.