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He’d noticed it at the beginning of their lunch date, when Zhongli had reached up to brush something off of Childe’s shoulder and adjusted his scarf a little more loosely around his neck. His fingers had brushed the skin of Childe’s neck, and that had almost been too much, but then Childe had caught a flash of thin, delicate veins in his peripheral vision when Zhongli had stretched his hand to brush some of Childe’s hair out of his face, and that had been too much.
Wrist. Zhongli was showing wrist.
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