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It’s that time of the month again.
Rent is due.
The bill is deceivingly light in Mona’s hands as she grips the paper, staring at the amount listed at the bottom. It’s cheap for the size of the house and its location within the city — Mr. Goth is being generous with her as thanks for removing the seal that was on the front door. And still, Mona cannot afford to make the payment.
She sends a guilty glance over to the corner of her room, where a newly purchased celestial globe from Fontaine sits, sparkling and beautiful. It cost about two months’ worth of rent.
Her stomach growls.
“Stars,” Mona sighs, collapsing into her chair and throwing the bill onto her desk, where it joins a pile of other documents. Drafts of next month’s column for The Steambird, academic journals, her own research notes. Opening her desk drawer, Mona retrieves her coin purse and turns it over, giving it a hefty shake.
A few coins fall into her palm. Not even enough to pay for a meal, let alone rent. Her next paycheck from The Steambird won’t arrive until the following week. Maybe she can ask Mr. Goth for an extension, just this once.
Do a few readings around Mondstadt, earn some extra coin, a voice in her head suggests.
Astrology is never to be used for mundane matters, the old hag’s voice replies.
She could just wait until her paycheck arrives and deliver the money to her landlord then. The old man is busy running his hotel. Surely that is providing enough income for him. (He may also be forgetful and simply not remember to come collecting.)
More guilt pools in Mona’s gut. That would be taking advantage of his kindness, and it would be worse to repay him with dishonesty rather than no mora at all.
“You are an astrologist of your word,” Mona tells herself, slamming the drawer shut (her expensive scry glass wobbles precariously) and grabbing the bill. “You will face him properly and see if this can’t be worked out, like adults.”
A thought occurs to her.
Astrologists are never to attempt reading their own fate, lest they fall into madness. Mona holds fast to this rule.
It is not her fate that she’s planning to peer into, but Mr. Goth’s.
With a practiced wave of her hands, Mona’s astrolabe materializes in the air, drawing from the latent moisture. The shimmering wheel displays the watery reflections of the stars, even now during the daytime, for the stars are always present in the sky, if one knows where to look. She adjusts the runes lined up in the outer circle, the stars shifting as they reveal the threads of fate to her.
“Will you be feeling particularly amenable today, Mr. Goth?” Mona speaks aloud, studying the astrolabe. This is a rather simple reading, only accounting for the fate of one (technically two) person for a singular event that will occur. Yet the stars keep shifting and turning as more variables are suddenly added.
“Dangerous, untrustworthy persons… Deceitful appearances… Just what is Mr. Goth getting up to?” Mona ponders, but then it hits her: the Fatui are currently renting out the whole of his hotel. It must be crawling with their people. She can only assume, since the guards stationed outside never let anyone that is not Fatui or Mr. Goth inside.
A groan escapes her. Naturally fate would not make this easy for her. Not only will she have to convince her landlord to pity her, but she’ll have to get through the Fatui first. Considering how her one encounter with them had been less than pleasant, Mona does not need the stars to foresee this going poorly.
“I’ve bested the likes of a Harbinger once. I can handle a few grunts.”
If worse comes to worst, she can leave a message for Mr. Goth. Hopefully.
Dispelling the astrolabe, Mona rises from her seat and heads for the door, where her hat and cape rest on the coat rack. After both are placed in their proper position on her person, Mona exits her house and heads for The Goth Grand Hotel.
Mondstadt is having good weather today. The sun sits high in the afternoon sky, a few clouds hovering nearby to provide temporary shade. The scent of dandelions is carried by the wind, marking the arrival of The Windblume Festival in just a few weeks. It pulls at the wide brim of Mona’s hat, and she frowns as she has to hold onto it to prevent it from flying off her head completely.
She sticks to the back roads of the city rather than passing through the market district. The fewer acquaintances she runs into, the better. Mona does not want any unforeseen circumstances getting in her way. On the second landing of Mondstadt’s winding staircase, the roof of Goth Hotel rises into view.
A few people are milling about on this level of the city. Glory sits on a nearby bench, no doubt wondering if Godwin will write to her soon. (He won’t.) Sansa stands by the fountain, practicing a song. (She won’t find luck as a bard for another half a year, her performance anxiety still holding her back.)
Mona’s destination lays beyond them. Her shiny gold heels click against the cobblestone as she marches over to the hotel. Two Fatui are chatting in the garden, probably discussing whatever evil schemes their organization has simmering. From a brief glance, Mona gleans that their names are Mikhail and Lyudmila, filing this information away for later. Directly outside the entrance is a lone guard, his face covered by the standard Fatui mask, arms crossed.
Mona narrows her eyes as she approaches. Luke. 33. He’s been trying to rise through the ranks for years, but has found himself in a standstill in his current position, and now he’s relegated to guard duty. He longs for something more exciting, often trading gossip with his coworkers about the exploits of their commanding officers, the Harbingers.
She can work with that.
When a woman with an ostentatious appearance and equally large hat is suddenly standing in front of him like she has every right to be there, Luke startles, losing some of his imposing guard composure.
“No visitors allowed inside, miss.”
Mona tosses one of her twintails over her shoulder. “I’m here to see Mr. Goth. I’m a client.”
She speaks with confidence, chin raised and eyes demanding, and Luke is tripping over his words. “D-Do you have an appointment?”
“Yes,” Mona lies easily, “He’s expecting me. It’s rather urgent, so if you don’t mind, can you hurry this along?”
She doesn’t need to see behind his mask to know that Luke is having an internal crisis. He has strict orders not to let anyone who is not affiliated with the Fatui in, but angering the woman before him somehow seems worse than defying the orders of Arlecchino. Maybe.
“U-Uh, can I get a name, miss?”
“Astrologist Mona Megistus,” says Mona, rolling her eyes.
The second after the s rolls off her tongue, she feels it. A crawling sensation down her spine, hair standing on end. The wind dies and the air grows still.
The hands of fate, Mona thinks, spinning around as Luke’s eyes widen and he stands at attention.
Right as the man standing behind her smiles, and greets as if this were any normal circumstance, “Nice to meet you, Astrologist Mona Megistus. What brings you to The Goth Grand Hotel?”
Déjà vu, Mona’s mind supplies. The feeling of having lived through an experience before. This is what she feels as her eyes scan the stranger. He’s tall and lean, with fair skin littered with freckles and messy red hair. It’s his easy smile, lackadaisical manner in which he holds himself — an attempt to conceal the truth that, to Mona, is plain to see. He’s a Fatui Harbinger, his aura radiating power and danger. This friendly front that he presents may fool most, but Mona is not most people. She can see it in the dullness of his eyes, in the surreptitious way he is evaluating her as well.
Unlike last time, this Harbinger does not have killing intent. Yet. Mona silently curses the stars for having this lined up for her today. A few grunts she can handle without issue. A Harbinger is another story. Not that she can’t take him! But more discretion is now necessary. She must proceed with caution.
(All of this to pay her damned rent.)
It’s been a few seconds since he spoke, and Mona still hasn’t answered. His smile is faltering, a crease forming between his brows as a look of concern crosses his face. “Uh, you alright there?”
“I’m here to speak with Mr. Goth. I am not trying to interfere with any Fatui matters.” She does not offer any smiles or polite greetings in return. The Harbinger does not seem to mind this, his smile returning in full force.
“Oh, why didn’t you say that from the start? I’ll take you right to his office!”
Mona sputters alongside Luke. “I beg your pardon?”
“My lord?”
He ignores them both, brushing past Mona (much too close for her liking) to approach the doors. He pauses to glance over his shoulder at her, and says, “Well, are you coming inside? He’s getting up there in age, so I don’t want to make him walk more than necessary.”
Mona isn’t sure whether to be insulted or utterly confused. She settles somewhere in between.
“Yes, I’ll be coming inside. You can save the concern, Harbinger.”
His eyebrow quirks as she stomps up beside him. “I knew you’d be smart.”
“Excuse me?” Mona can feel anger rising within.
He continues to smile in the face of her ire. Gesturing at her person, he says, “This whole mage look you have going on. Astrologist, was it? You have to be smart to understand the stars, right?”
Mona’s mouth clamps shut, eyes widening. It takes all of her training not to step back in shock. Her pride would lead her to believe that he’s mocking her and astrology, but intuition reveals no lies and no deceit in his words. He’s being honest.
Somehow, that is more difficult for Mona to comprehend. Did a Fatui Harbinger just compliment her?
“Well, yes! Of course. Don’t expect praise for acknowledging that which is obvious.”
This response draws laughter from him. Mona just made a Fatui Harbinger laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of it! I’m Tartaglia, by the way. But maybe you knew that? Feel free to call me Childe.”
And with that he pushes the doors open and gestures for Mona to step inside. “Ladies first.”
Mona wonders if she’s dreaming as she walks into the hotel’s foyer. It’s opulent, with marble floors, granite counters and gold trimmings, and it’s crawling with Fatui. She would ask Barbatos to guide her, but Mona places her faith in the stars. (She’ll have an existential crisis later when reflecting on the fact that it was the stars that led her into this lion’s den, side by side with a Harbinger.)
In contrast to her mounting anxiety, Childe is completely at home here, greeting the personnel as they walk by. It’s a sight to behold, the lower-ranking Fatui bowing in his presence while he waves back casually. It seems it is not just her that he treats so informally.
He takes them past the check-in counter, down a hallway that ends at a wooden door with a plaque that reads ‘Goth’. Childe steps aside for Mona to pass.
“This is his office! Will you be needing anything else?”
Mona blinks at him. “No…this is far enough, thank you.”
Childe shrugs and starts taking a few steps back, still facing her. “Happy to help. I’ll likely still be around when you finish, so come find me if you need any other help.”
Her hand is paused in midair where she is about to knock on Mr. Goth’s door, staring incredulously at him. “Just what are you playing at, Childe? I have not done anything to warrant this.”
He stops, setting his hands on his hips. “What is ‘this’, exactly?”
“You know what I mean. You’re up to something, and I won’t fall for it,” Mona bites back.
“Whoa, there! No need for the suspicion. I’m just helping you out, honest. Though I may be up to one thing…” Childe trails off, lips widening into a charming smile. Mona feels her heart leap in her chest, and it’s surely in response to the danger he presents.
Her hand clenches into a fist, ready to summon the wrath of the seas itself and drown everyone in this hotel if he makes any untoward move.
Childe scratches at the back of his head, eyes falling to the ground as he chuckles. “You make an impression, Mona Megistus. I can’t deny that I want to know more about you. Are you doing anything after this?”
A stream of water hits him in the face. Mona is surprised both by the fact that she attacked without meaning to, and that he didn’t dodge. There’s a split second where she readies herself for a retaliation, but all Childe does is wipe it off as the first spark of something ignites in his dull eyes.
“I’m more than happy to have a spar with you, if that’s your style. I was thinking lunch, but I like the way you think.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Mona huffs, valiantly trying to hold onto her dignity. It feels like a losing battle when faced with the might of Childe’s charisma. “I will do no such thing — lunch or sparring.”
“Why not?” Childe asks, his tone sounding genuinely confused.
“What do you mean ‘why not’? You are a Fatui Harbinger, a dangerous individual!”
“Yeah, but I haven’t personally given you any reason not to spend time with me, right?”
Any retort Mona might’ve levied is interrupted by the door behind her opening, and a kind old voice speaking up, “Ah, Mona, what a pleasant surprise! It’s good to see you. Oh, have you made friends with Childe?” Mr. Goth asks, smiling brightly at the two young adults.
“No,” Mona insists at the same time Childe answers, “Yes, sir!”
He smiles while she glares, and Mr. Goth chuckles, waving them both inside her office. “Come in, come in. I just brewed some tea. It’s always nice having company!”
Speaking with her landlord is exactly what Mona was after, and now she’s accomplished the first part of her goal. She did not, however, picture this happening with a Harbinger tagging along. It’s bad enough having to ask this kind old man for pity on her poor finances, but it’s doubly mortifying to do so with Childe there to witness.
“I was actually hoping to speak with you alone, Mr. Goth,” Mona says as she walks in after him, praying that the door will shut in Childe’s face. It doesn’t.
“Hmm? Alone? Surely whatever you have to say can be shared among us all. Childe is a fine, upstanding man. The two of you will get along well, I think.” Goth smiles to himself as he pours two cups of steaming tea and slides them over to Mona and Childe.
“I’d say we’ve already hit it off,” Childe agrees, blowing on the drink before taking a sip. He has the audacity to wink at Mona over the brim of the cup.
“Please, Mr. Goth, it’s a rather private matter, ” she tries again, her eyes beseeching him. The old man’s milky ones stare back at her for a moment, then realization strikes him.
“Oh, of course! I know what this is about.” Mona begins to hope. Goth turns to Childe and explains, “Mona is currently living at one of the houses I own in the city. I’ve been able to give her a very good deal on rent thanks to the Fatui’s patronage here at the hotel, but the young ma’am struggles with money.”
Mona curses fate, the stars, and everything in between. Let the ground split open and swallow her into the depths of the Abyss.
“Am I right, Mona? You want to talk about your rent?”
“You would be correct,” she answers through gritted teeth. Mona can feel Childe’s curious gaze on her, burning every inch of skin exposed. She resists the urge to pull her hat down to hide her blushing cheeks.
“Well, I’m sure something can be worked,” Goth says, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “We can looking to a change in your payment plan, maybe making payments bi-weekly rather than monthly if that helps.”
Mona’s hands are clenched tight enough to pull her gloves taut around her fists. It takes everything within her to keep her chin high and composure intact, however shaky and fumbling it may be. She opens her mouth to speak, but the Harbinger seems to think that he has a place in this conversation.
“May I offer a potential solution, Mr. Goth?” Childe asks, raising his hand as if they are in school.
“Why on Teyvat would you have anything to add—”
“Yes, yes, of course, Childe.”
“Thank you, sir,” he smiles, clasping his hands behind his back. He’s incredibly polite and respectful when speaking to Goth, his posture reminding Mona that he is a trained soldier. “My suggestion is simple: I’ll pay for Mona’s rent.”
The silence is brief, but damning. Fate turns on its head.
“What?!”
“My boy,” Goth smiles, this time his eyes clouded with tears. “My sweet, sweet boy. You are too kind and generous.”
Mona slams her hands down on his desk. “Mr. Goth, you can’t be serious. This is my rent we’re talking about, and I do not accept this arrangement.”
“Come now, Mona. Don’t be so proud as to turn down kindness.”
“I am not sure that anything a Harbinger has to offer can be kind.”
A leather pouch is dropped between her arms on the desk with an audible thump. Mona breathes in through her nose, then slowly looks down at it. “What is this?”
“Enough mora to cover your rent, and then some. Why not pay ahead for next month’s too, so you don’t have to worry about it?”
She can see how heavy the pouch is, quickly calculating how many coins must be inside. It makes her head reel. Still, Mona does not touch it. She barely moves.
“I will not put myself into debt to you, Childe.”
“Hey, that’s not what I’m after.” From her peripheral, Mona sees his gloved hand reach out as if to grasp her shoulder. She tenses and Childe notices, palm immediately stopping to hover inches away. Then it falls back to his side, and Mona finally turns to look at him.
Childe shrugs, tentative smile on his face. It’s the first time he’s looked anything but confident and assured in this entire encounter. “I just want to help out. Honestly. The Fatui are paying Mr. Goth anyway, so I don’t see why we can’t slip in a little extra.”
Mona’s eyes narrow once more, her fingers twitching against the wood of the desk. She wants to draw up her astrolabe and decipher his constellation. Peering into him now is like staring into dark, murky waters, filled with shadows and secrets that continue endlessly below. Very easy to fall into, Mona thinks as she stares into Childe’s blue eyes, and nigh impossible to drag yourself out of.
No lie detected. Childe is being honest. That makes him more dangerous than those who would speak falsehoods to her face.
Perhaps a revision in tactics is required. Mona stands up straight and picks up the bag of mora, unlacing it so that the fabric opens, revealing the shining gold coins within. Her stomach leaps at the thought of how much astrological supply she could purchase with this — but no, that is what got her into this mess in the first place. She cannot take the money to spend it on something else when her landlord is smiling at her expectantly.
With a solemn, resigned expression, Mona holds the pouch out to Mr. Goth. “Rent payment, sir.”
“Thank you, my dear Mona.” He takes the bag, giving her a pointed look. When Mona raises an eyebrow, he inclines his head at Childe.
Mona turns, keeping her eyes somewhere near Childe’s ear and that dangling red jewel of his. “Thank you.” Her voice is hard as stone.
“You’re welcome.” Childe beams back at her.
“Wonderful! It warms my heart to see you two getting along. Quickly, let’s enjoy our tea before it goes cold!”
They stay for tea, chatting with Mr. Goth. Mona is almost grateful for Childe’s presence. While she gets along with her landlord, she typically doesn’t have the time nor the inclination to make small talk with him, and would deem this a chore. Childe, however, steers the conversation with ease, filling in any potential silences or awkward pauses, enough to make Mona relax and enjoy her drink.
Half an hour later, they rise from their seats and leave Goth’s office, walking back into the foyer of the hotel. It’s no less crowded than before, though Mona could not say whether the personnel changed out. They all look the same in their masks and uniforms. Childe walks with Mona to the doors, and by this point she knows better than to hope that he will leave her here.
Sure enough, he holds the doors open for her once more, quickly catching up with Mona when she hurries away. “I don’t suppose you’re hurrying over to the restaurant that serves the best lunch in Mondstadt?”
A change in tactics. Rather than trying to shoo him away, perhaps she can satiate his curiosity by giving Childe what he wants in hopes that he’ll lose interest. (Not that astrology isn’t endlessly fascinating! But it must be far beyond his comprehension and tastes.)
Mona abruptly stops by the balcony that overlooks Mondstadt’s market district. Good Hunter and Cat’s Tail are nearby and both serve good meals, but it seems wise not to go anywhere near alcohol with the Harbinger around. Good Hunter it is, then.
Mona glances over her shoulder at Childe, showing her first smile to him, smug as it is. “Maybe so, but only if you can keep up, Harbinger.”
With that, Mona’s form dissolves into droplets of water that turn into a stream, and she trickles through the railing and down the stone wall. Over the cobblestone she travels, stopping once she’s reached the lip of the fountain in the middle of the market square. Mona materializes back into her physical form in a spray of water that glimmers in the midday sun. One hand on her hip, she smirks up at Childe.
“Well? I don’t have all day.”
Bellowing laughter greets her ears. Childe looks almost carefree as he leaps onto the balcony, whipping out his Wind Glider, then sails down to meet her on the cobblestone. His eyes don’t leave her once as he puts it away and says, “Pretty neat trick you got there. I’d love to find out what else you’ve got up your sleeve.”
Despite herself, Mona glows under the praise. She can’t help it if having her talents acknowledged is one of the many things she loves. “Yes, well, a mage never reveals all her cards at once.”
“Care to see one of mine?” Childe asks, dull eyes sparking once more. It seems he enjoys challenges and displays. Mona would be lying if she said she isn’t curious about what he can do. Her eyes wander to the Hydro Vision attached to his belt again. The only other Hydro wielder in Mondstadt is the Deaconess Barbara, and her skill set is vastly different from Mona’s. Maybe a spar with Childe wouldn’t be too terrible of an idea…
Mona lifts her chin, raising an eyebrow at Childe. “Go on.”
He grins as if she gave an enthusiastic yes. Given her behavior with him thus far, it might as well have been. Childe flicks his arms out, drawing water to his hands. Two blades of pure Hydro form in his palms, looking as sharp and deadly as any metal blade. Mona studies the elemental weapons seriously. A clever trick — brilliant, even.
“Not finished yet, Mona.” Her eyes flit up to him as he joins the blades together, the water melding and transforming into one long Hydro polearm. Childe spins it around in his hands adeptly, an extension of himself. Mona’s foot slides back on the cobblestone in an instinctive reaction, but she stops herself. It would incite an all out war if a diplomat from Snezhnaya attacked a resident of Mondstadt unprovoked in broad daylight. Childe doesn’t seem like the type to resort to such methods, anyway.
“Impressive,” Mona finally says, deciding it won’t be the end of the world if she allows him this much. “I’ve only heard of one other Hydro allogene commanding the element in such a way. A swordsman from Liyue.”
“Liyue, huh? I’ve spent some time there myself. I didn’t get the chance to meet him, so I’ll have to go back. I’d love to cross blades with another Hydro user.” His pointed look at Mona is not lost on her.
Mona considers dueling Childe. It wouldn’t cause too much of a stir to travel to the open fields in Windrise, far from any unsuspecting civilians, and unleash the full power of their Visions. That competitive spirit inside her stirs, making her blood quicken and heart beat faster.
“Perhaps another time,” she eventually says, though she regrets her wording. Not for shooting down the idea (not that she would admit) but for leaving room for there to be a next time. Her plan was to rid herself of the Harbinger, not invite further interactions.
“Deal,” Childe agrees, leaping on the opening before Mona can protest or take it back. She sighs and turns away, walking over to Good Hunter. Childe follows closely behind.
When they get to the counter, Sara greets Mona with a friendly smile, and to her surprise, does the same with Childe. Either his charisma is that strong, or he’s eaten here before and made acquaintance with the worker.
Mona orders her usual. “A salad with two eggs, please.” Sara nods, knowing this by heart now, and looks at Childe expectantly.
“A Sweet Madame and two slices of cake.”
“Will that be together or separate?”
Mona inhales and looks up sharply. “Separate,” she says right as Childe answers, “Together,” and slaps down a generous amount of gold coins on the counter. Mona could cry.
Sara takes the coin immediately and thanks them for their patronage. Mona waits until they’ve sat themselves at an empty table before unleashing her irritation on Childe.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“Eating lunch with you.” Spoken as if this were obvious (which it is) and what she’s really asking (which it isn’t).
“That wasn’t part of our arrangement.”
Childe shrugs. “Doesn’t have to be. I don’t see why it’s a big deal.”
Mona opens her mouth, finds nothing to say, and closes it. Sara stops by to drop off their drinks, then leaves them alone once more.
“We do not need to be overly friendly with one another.”
“Why not?”
They share puzzled glances, though for opposing reasons.
“Are you intending for us to become friends?”
“I don’t know, maybe. You’re an interesting person, intelligent, and look like you’re strong. I‘d like to get to know you better.”
Mona wonders if Childe has mastered wielding words as weapons just like any blade. His words are effortless, freely given out, yet they disarm her easily and strike her weak points. That must be why her heart skips a beat and her throat suddenly feels tight.
Mona is used to being perceived as intimidating. On most days, she thrives on it and enjoys her reputation proceeding her. As the world’s leading astrologist, she knows that her life’s passion will not be readily understood or even accepted by others — that’s why she’s out to discover the truth of the world and change everyone’s minds. When her most common reception is confusion at best and outright derision at worst, Childe’s interest and amiability is a breath of fresh air. She studies him, noting again how his easy smile does little to light his dull eyes, and feels that familiar tug at her mind, the twist in air that whispers to her truth of hearts, fate moves in mysterious ways.
“Alright then,” Mona finally says after a period of silence, “But don’t expect this to become a regular occurrence. I am much too busy with my research, I don’t have time to play as a tour guide for a Fatui Harbinger.”
Childe laughs. “That won’t be a problem. My job has me traveling all over Teyvat frequently. I’m leaving Mondstadt tonight. But the next time I’m here, I’ll be sure to find you again, Mona Megistus.”
This time, the lilt of his words sinks into her cheeks and cause them to warm. Mona is spared this embarrassment by Sara approaching again, this time with their food. Her plate is hardly placed down in front of her before Mona is picking up a fork and biting into a mouthful of lettuce. Childe sets out cutting into the roast chicken, serving Mona a portion on an extra plate.
It’s a simple gesture, polite and expected in this arrangement, no matter their status as strangers-not-quite-acquaintances. Maybe it’s the contrast of how benign the moment is compared with the deathly finesse she saw him handle his blades of Hydro with. His bright smiles and dull eyes. A friendly Fatui Harbinger, a man of walking contradictions.
Still waters run deep, but the darkest depths of the ocean hold secrets long (or best) forgotten.
“Monoceros Caeli.”
“Pardon?”
“Your constellation—that’s its name. A narwhal. How fitting.”
If he’s unsettled by this, Childe does not show it. Instead, he grins and leans forward, setting his chin in his gloved palm. “Got me all figured out now?”
“No.” Not at all. Not until she’s scoured the depths of the stars created for him. “Just remember that I can seek you out too, Harbinger.”
There’s that sharpness to his grin again, another brief flash that lingers this time. Mona can feel his gaze lock onto her, committing her to memory the way a hunter marks its next target.
He has his methods, she has hers. Childe does not yet realize the power knowing his constellation gives her.
Perhaps she does not yet know how dangerous his attention is.
“I look forward to it.”
Mona’s lips quirk into her own challenging smile. She bites into the chicken he paid for, appreciating the rich taste, then swallows.
“As do I, Childe.”