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The first indication someone is approaching your stall in the Monstadt marketplace is your little blue seelie. It bobs happily in a bowl of water, squeaking at your current customer, before it screeches suddenly and flies off in a flurry of droplets to whack the newcomer in the face.
“Archons-damn-it!” You recognize the voice and the hands batting at your seelie. The Fatui agent usually stationed outside the Goth Grand nearly succeeds in snatching it by the tail but the blue pixie darts behind you and makes a sound suspiciously like a raspberry.
“Five? You must be crazy, thinking I’d sell it for anything less than eight,” you bargain, ignoring the Fatui.
Diluc sighs from across the counter from you. “Fine, then, eight. Ten if you bring another tomorrow.”
You remove a small box from under the counter and pull back when he reaches for it. “Money first.”
He hands you a sack of Mora. “Open it, I have to check if it’s genuine.”
The Fatui agent has given up, instead stewing in silence and glowering at your glowing seelie, who has taken a liking to Diluc’s hair. It snuggles on top of his head, making contented whistling noises. The Fatui agent looks particularly disgruntled; Diluc looks extremely smug.
“Hey- What is-!?” Luke, you remember his name now, demands, jabbing a finger at the bottle you remove from the box. You cup a hand around the fragile glass and tilt it up to show the translucent blue-green wisp at the bottom to Diluc.
“A bottle of Barbatos’ breath,” Diluc observes in monotone. He reaches out and takes it from you. “If I’ve wasted my money a fake, I’ll eat my boots.”
“W-wait! Wait!” Luke looks breathless, panicked. Your hands tighten around the bottle. “You said you’re selling it for eight? I’ll double it, sixteen for the bottle.”
You ignore him.
“Will you have anything else tomorrow?” Diluc asks you. You pretend to ponder the question, then nod.
“I think so, but I’ll have to check all my stashes. Might take the whole week.”
“Until then.” Diluc hands you another heavy bag of Mora and nods goodbye. Luke looks heartbroken.
-
“Look, if you sell those bottles exclusively to us, we’ll pay you double- Wait, no, triple. Triple! - of what you’re getting now. You said ten? We’ll give you thirty.” Luke’s voice has risen to a whisper-shout, as loud as a regular voice. He’s completely abandoned his drink, waving it around so animatedly you think he’s forgotten he holds a glass at all.
You shrug, eyeing the bar as you drain your drink. Luke presses on. Your seelie lolls around on the table, fat and happy.
“Or even at least first say, we can easily double the going price for those bottles.”
You shrug, uninterested. Luke grows more desperate. “Just- just let us at least bid, alright? Look, I’ll be there first thing tomorrow with barrels of Mora and I’ll take every bottle you have for as much as you want.”
You ignore him, finish your drink, and sigh. Luke looks at you, at your first sign of acknowledgement since he sat down across from you and began talking.
“I’m going to get another drink,” you announce, picking up your seelie and stuffing it into a pocket. “Don’t follow me.”
Diluc doesn’t look at you until you set your glass down and push it toward him. “Another, please.”
He refills it without a word. “What, not going to comment on my drinking habits?” You arch an eyebrow.
“Anyone dealing with Fatui deserves as much as they can drink.” He wipes the rim and slides it back to you. “On the house, this one.”
You take a sip. “A Ladybird?” You say, referring to the sweet mix of cider and dandelion wine. There’s pieces of sunsettia and berry in yours. Your seelie wiggles its way out of your pocket and nearly tips face first into the cup.
He shrugs and returns to dragging a new rag over wet glasses. “Don’t want you to be incoherent now, do I?”
“True.” You say, dangling your protesting Seelie by the ear. It whines at you.
Diluc side-eyes you. “About those bottles. . .”
“I have a few more stashed away,” you take another sip. “What’re you offering? That Fatui from earlier was willing to pay quite a pretty penny.”
He grits his teeth. You laugh.
“How does a hundred for the lot sound?” He asks. “Fifty more, per bottle, if you have more than five.”
“Are you sure?” You raise your eyes and your voice. “I know I have at least seven. You’re willing to drop two hundred thousand Mora on those?”
He meets your stare. “Yes.”
“Done!” You cackle, shaking his hand and already daydreaming of what you could buy with two hundred thousand Mora.
Someone knocks a chair back with a clatter. We- wuh-” Luke sputters, pointing at you. “We, we’ll pay! More! Double, four hundred!”
You turn your head back to Diluc, ignoring the frantic Fatui behind you. “Tomorrow, then?” You ask.
“Same time as today.”
Luke nearly trips over the fallen chair and slams his hands on the bar. “We were in the middle of negotiating and you-!?” He breaks off in a sputter.
“I wasn’t negotiating anything,” you respond. “I was having a drink and you barged in and began babbling.”
Diluc grips his rag like a whip. “Fatui. You have no claim to anything here.” His eyes narrow. “Now. Get out.” Your seelie squeaks agreement.
“One day, you’ll regret not accepting the Fatui’s generosity!” Luke slams the door so hard the handle rattles. The whole tavern watches him go.
You lean over and pick your seelie out of your drink. “How long do you think it’ll take for them to figure out we’re working together?” You ask, handing his Mora bag from earlier back.
-
Diluc picks up the last bottle to nestle it in his bag. “As promised, your payment.” He looks at Luke glaring from a distance. “Is that. . . Fatui bothering you? Perhaps a call to the Knights would be in order-”
Luke spits on the ground and stalks off.
Diluc smirks.
“Don’t you hate the Knights?” You ask. Diluc looks back at you, half a smile on his lips.
“Watching the Fatui squirm trounces the Knights’ uselessness any day.”
-
“Here.” Luke drops two heavy sacks of clinking gold on the counter to your stall, panting. “A million Mora, for that one bottle you have there.” He points at the (fake) bottle of Barbatos’ breath you have displayed.
You pause, in the middle of unpacking the rest of your wares - useless knickknacks, shiny trinkets, various bits of clutter and bric-a-brac. “Each? I have two of those.”
Luke gapes. Your seelie titters.
“F- fine.” He tugs his collar, pale and sweating. “Each. Half up front, here-” He gestures to the sacks he dumped.
“I’ll beat that. One and a half million, each, for the bottles.” Diluc drums his fingers on the counter.
Luke growls. “You again! You can’t just waltz in and-”
“One and a half million each.” Diluc’s eyes bore into yours, then drop to your seelie nuzzling his hand.
“One and three-quarters!” Luke says.
“Two million.” Diluc looks as apathetic as Luke does panicked.
“Three! Three million, each!” Luke’s shout catches the attention of everyone nearby. Marjorie stopt to stare. Two knights on patrol glance over and nearly trip over a bench. Donna’s and Flora’s eyes widen. Bennett almost spears himself on his blade. Schultz’s jaw drops. Wagner continues hammering the sword on his anvil, Katherine doesn’t so much as twitch, and your seelie doesn’t stop peppering kisses on Diluc’s cheeks - some things never change.
“Done,” you say. “Three million each, payment up front.”
Luke heaves a sigh of relief, then catches himself. You and Diluc watch him scramble to amass the funds.
Diluc smiles. “I enjoy watching the Fatui waste their money. I enjoy it even more when I’ve had a hand in draining their coffers.”
Your seelie squeaks and twirls in agreement.
-
Diluc opens the door to your rooms and finds you sitting at your desk, holding a pair of tweezers, and squinting at a wax seal. Your seelie nestles in your sewing basket, cooing softly. “Do you think this looks genuine enough?” You ask in lieu of a greeting.
He peers over your shoulder at the chipped and stained bottle top. “Yes. How’d you get it like that this time?”
“Stuck it in the fireplace overnight after painting it with shoe polish,” you say, setting it down and picking up the glass bottle. It’s almost cracked through, with a smudge of rust inside and some dirt around the rim.
“Where do you get all these?”
“Oh,” you shrug. “All over. Marjorie lets me have first pick of her stuff if it’s not spoken for, I go with Bennett on his treasure hunts, Amber sends any bits and bobs she finds on patrol my way. . .”
Diluc settles into his own chair and smiles fondly at you. “I’ll drop some things for you off next time I come around.”
“Always happy to help scam the Fatui,” you smile.