Work Text:
Sandrone had been hard at work engineering new, more efficient ways to make the world a worse place when her least favorite co-worker burst into her workshop.
Third of the Fatui Harbingers, Columbina turned to face her with an idiotic smile and uttered the most appalling, disgusting words Sandrone had ever heard in her life.
“Marionette, I want a hug.”
She had physically recoiled upon hearing it, making no effort to hide her sickened expression. And not just because Columbina couldn’t see her face, but also because her very facial muscles had acted of their own accord, following some inborn, evolutionarily-rooted revulsion far beyond her control.
“Pourquoi diable are you saying that to me? Get out.”
Columbina stretched her arms out to either side, waving them vertically. “Sixty seconds minimum.”
“What? Absolutely not.” Sandrone nearly gagged. “If you are desperate for physical affection go hug the Knave.”
“Arlecchino already hugged me today.” Columbina took a step closer, arms still outstretched. “Seventy seconds.”
“Keep your distance, Damselette.” She raised the wrench she had been using a moment prior up to her face, as if to defend herself. “And what happened to sixty?”
“So you agree to sixty, then?” she asked, eyelashes fluttering beneath the cloth latticework.
“I wouldn’t even agree to ten!”
“Oh?” She tilted her head. “So nine is your upper limit?”
“Columbina, if I could hug you for a negative amount of time, I would.”
“Hm. Does it make any difference if I say I’m asking you as your superior?”
“Yes, as that would make it abuse of authority.” Sandrone narrowed her eyes. “Not that you have the authority to go around demanding hugs from people.”
Columbina pouted. “You know, most people would be thrilled at the prospect of receiving a hug from me…”
“Then go ask those people,” she said sharply.
“Ah, but I don’t want a hug from just anyone.” She smiled brightly, like someone who had long-since given themselves to madness. “I want a hug from you, Sandrone.”
Gross, she thought, bunching her shoulders together. How far had the Fatui fallen, for this woman to be in a position of leadership?
“Hug one of my puppets, then,” Sandrone said. “All of the Katheryne models are programmed with the capability.”
Columbina touched a finger to her chin, frowning. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you give your puppets a hugging module?” A sly grin spread across her face. “Could it be that you’re lonely, Sandrone?”
“What exactly are you trying to imply?” she asked, eye twitching. “For the record, I only did it to help them better mimic humans. Because physical affection is a cornerstone of human interaction. Unfortunately.”
But Columbina didn’t look like she was listening.
“My poor, pathetic Marionette,” she said, hand-to-heart with a look of sympathy plain on her face. “Worry not, because now that I’m here you won’t have to be touch-starved any longer.”
Sandrone took a deep breath, white-knuckling the wrench in her hand. “I’ll grant you this, Damselette. You make me feel things no one has ever made me feel before.”
“Love?” she asked, striking a pose that would have probably registered as cute to those who were weak-willed. “Awe? Admiration?”
“Contempt,” she said flatly. “And to be clear, I hated a great many people before I met you. But you’ve shown me that hate is surface-level. It’s simple. The passion with which I despise you is richer and fuller by far — it cannot be pinned down with such a flimsy word like hate. Thus, contempt.”
Columbina rubbed her chin, then nodded. “How about five seconds, then?”
Rather than respond to her, Sandrone focused her attention back on her workbench, picking up where she left off.
“I’ll start crying if you don’t,” Columbina said.
“That’s fine, as long as you wipe off any surfaces afterwards.”
“I have a blood condition that will have me in grave condition by tomorrow unless you and you alone give me a hug.”
“Maybe we can spin a wheel to see who lays on your casket.”
“I’m a biblical angel and can guarantee you a ticket to heaven, but only if you hug me.”
“What the hell does ‘biblical’ mean?” Sandrone pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance. “Fine, I’ll hug you for five seconds. But then you have to leave.”
Surprisingly, though, Columbina turned away. “It’s fine. I don’t want to make you if you don’t want to.”
“…What?”
“I respect your boundaries, Sandrone.” She shrugged. “I mean, what do you take me for? A bad person?”
“Yes? You are a bad person. So am I. Everyone in this palace is a bad person!”
But Columbina paid no heed. “Good luck with your research. I’ll take my leave, then.”
A mixed feeling brewed in Sandrone’s chest. On the one hand she was amazed that Columbina would leave of her own accord. But on the other hand… it didn’t feel like a particularly satisfying conclusion. It was empty, somehow.
But why?
She did want her gone, and even said as much. Though come to think of it, she could have made her leave far earlier. But instead she had indulged that girl in her nonsense, even if only a little.
Huh? she thought. Why would I do that?
Perhaps she was exhausted from work. Or maybe she had inhaled too much fumes when she brought out the petroleum. Or maybe…
No. Absolutely not.
What that idiot bird had said was complete drivel. No way it could ever be true.
Nevertheless, she felt like this was an ill-fitting ending. And so…
“I guess,” Sandrone said loudly, “I would be willing to go up to six seconds.”
Columbina paused with her hand on the door handle. Then she turned back, a heartfelt expression on her face, and spoke.
“Seven?”
“No,” Sandrone said. “Six.”
“Eight.”
“Six.”
“Eight and a half.”
“Six.”
“Eight and three—“
“Five.”
“Six.”
“Six it is.” Sandrone nodded sagely. “Now hurry up and — Columbina!?”
The breath escaped her lungs as the other woman rushed over and squeezed her tight, burying her face in the nook of Sandrone’s shoulder.
“One!” she said, voice muffled.
“You’re feral!” Sandrone spat. “You should be—“
“Two!”
“Never in my life have I met—“
“Three!”
Even as she hurled obscenities, Sandrone could not help but notice several things, despite herself. Columbina was very soft. And warm. And rather than petroleum, she smelled faintly of clean linen.
In a tiny way that she would never admit to anyone, even in death, it was almost refreshing.
“Six!”
Columbina released her hug, a pleased look on her face.
“See? That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”
“Whatever,” Sandrone huffed. “Your six seconds are up, now get out.”
“See you tomorrow,” she said, a bounce in her step as she made to leave. But before she opened the door…
“Oh, and Columbina?”
“Hm?”
Sandrone gave her a sidelong glance, grimacing.
“I hope you explode.”