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Summary
“Get out. I’m already tired of telling you. Go back to the Grand Goth Hotel. Better yet, leave Mondstadt altogether.” Diluc is tired of telling him, tired from the very idea of how much more so he’s going to have to say so, and already so, so tired of looking at this gingered menace grin in retaliation. He knows the kind.
“Twice, that’s all you have in you?” The diplomat—too kind of a way to refer to him, in Diluc’s opinion, though he certainly won’t be asking for his name—leans back, crosses his arms, and grins even more. Already so predictable. “What a boring way of tiring yourself out. I can think of better, comrade.
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Diluc works the bar at Angel’s Share every Friday night. When a Fatui diplomat starts showing up, determined to get to know Mondstadt’s most fiery and unrelenting bartender, Diluc struggles to acknowledge that Fatui are people in their own right, with their own thoughts and drives. Where Childe seems determined to get to know Diluc, Diluc is trying to pack away his internal monologue and remind himself that this is it: this is the life he was given, and this is the life he deserves. He does not get to want for things.Least of all for a pretty Snezhnayan diplomat.