Chapter Text
A raven-haired man, dressed in long, dark robes, gripped his hands tightly together, squeezing his eyes shut. “Dearest,” he began, smiling. “I believe we discussed this.”
The man across from him threw his head back with a laugh. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Surely you know better than to doubt my abilities.”
“This is not a matter of ability, Doctor. It is a matter of investment. There is little doubt in my mind that you would be able to integrate a fully-functional monitoring system for…our shared interest. My concern lies with the fact that it is not a steady stream of income, and likely will not serve its worth in mora…”
He paused, looking over his blue-haired companion. “Besides, don’t you have that ruffian to deal with such trivial matters?”
“Krupp is an imbecile on the best of days. This artificial intelligence system would be able to observe and report on the subjects’ states of being nearly 400 times more effectively…” The Doctor grinned, eyes narrowing. “Unless of course…you prefer me spending so much of my time with that so-called ruffian. ”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Doctor. Your choice of companions is no business of mine. Why should I care what worthless scum you decide to spend your days with.”
Red eyes met ones framed by silver glasses as the . “If I didn’t know better, Ninth, I’d believe you were jealous.”
“Jealous? Of your pathetic labrat? Don’t be daft.”
The robed man leaned closer until their noses were almost touching. “Though I do wonder why the curiosity. Last I checked, you were never one who cared about anyone’s feelings.”
“What can I say? Perhaps you’ve…peaked my interest…”
—
“...and this has to do with you interrupting my training because…?”
“Because I need a break. A vacation if you will. I have reached out to my personal spa staff and set up an appointment for this evening. I came to let you know.”
Tartaglia sheathed his sword, sending the older man a confused glance. “Okay? I still don’t get what this has to do with me though.”
Pantalone smiled, reaching out a gloved hand to ruffle his hair. “Because I booked an appointment for you as well. I’m aware of your, er, circumstances, but that is no excuse for a young man your age to be running around with bloodstains on his uniform. And not to mention, you could likely do with some relaxation as well. I heard from Coumbina that you’re out here every morning before dawn.”
“Training is relaxing. And it’s important for me as Her Majesty’s weapon to stay in top form.”
“...right. But don’t you think it’s equally as important for you to have more than one way to deal with stress.”
The boy paused. “Well, I find fishing relaxing. It’s a good way to meditate on my training techniques.”
Pantalone resisted the urge to slap himself in the face. Honestly, who was in charge of Tartaglia’s schedule? Did no one think to remind the boy of his life outside of fighting?
“Ajax, do not be difficult. I expect to see you packed and ready to go into the city in an hour,” Pantalone scolded, crossing his arms.
“Just because you’re having a crisis over your feelings for Dottore doesn’t mean I am. I’m perfectly happy to continue my training, so thanks, but no thanks.”
The young harbinger summoned his sword again, turning back to his field of slaughter (they may have just been testing dummies, but there was a reason Childe’s name was so highly feared on the battlefield).
“...very well. I thought you would have appreciated the chance to get out of completing your economics homework, but I can see I was mistaken…”
The Regrator turned away, long robes sweeping elegantly behind him.
He took a step.
Then another.
Then-
“Hang on, if I go then I can skip my homework?”
—
No matter how many times Tartaglia had been to the city, he couldn’t help but stare in awe. The buildings were lit so warmly, and the dull red of the brick roads looked like dried blood in the freshly fallen snow. The city was so beautiful, and so lively compared to Morepesok and the palace.
As much as he liked to show off his resilience, even he could admit that there was something comforting about being draped in large furs as Pantalone’s carriage drove through the streets. With his face pressed up against the frosted-over windows, he could even ignore the smug eyes on his back.
Rounding the corner, the carriage stopped in front of a wide building. “Ah, we’ve arrived. Any longer and I fear my legs would have begun to cramp up.”
Tartaglia rolled his eyes. Pantalone was ever the drama queen.
The leather-lined door creaked open, held by the poor recruit who had to drive them through the snow. The elder harbinger stepped out delicately, dropping a single mora into the hands of their driver.
Tartaglia rolled his eyes again, handing the recruit a small pouch of mora as he jumped down.
“Thanks for the ride.”
He stretched, pushing his way past Pantalone. “This the place? It’s uh…cool?”
And to be fair, it was. The building was wide and pale, with large windows taking up much of the storefront. A sign above the intricate door labeled it as Snezhnaya’s most exclusive spa. From what Tartaglia could make out, the interior was empty save for a few staff members running too and fro. No doubt the Ninth had booked out the entire place just for them.
“Quaint, isn’t it? I sponsored this place myself. The best from all across Teyvat are invited to work here. Well? Shall we head in? I can’t wait to fill Lydia in about all that’s happened recently. Honestly, that old man will be the end of me. Can you believe he had the audacity to speak so casually about us? Hmph, and to think. Jealous. Me. Even I know our relationship is nothing more than transactional. I mean, really. The attitude on that man…”
Ajax tuned him out, glancing around the city again. Perhaps he should come out here more often, though giving Pierro’s soldiers (really more like prison guards) the slip might prove challenging.
No matter, Tartaglia loved a good challenge.
And speaking of challenges…
“‘Lia? Are you coming in?”
The young fatuus nodded, clenching his fists. “Bring it on.”