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He waits for her to ask. There are so many things she could ask. Are we right to believe in you? Do you hear any of our thousand prayers whispered to your scattered winds? Will you show me the way forward, Lord? Will you give me the guidance I have begged for again and again?
Or maybe, as they meet each other's gaze beneath the shade of the great oak tree, she might simply ask about her hero: What was she like? Would she think me worthy? Have we become strong like she hoped? Why did you help her, but not the ones who bled in the centuries before or after?
He waits for her to ask. He wouldn't blame her, if she did. But—
"Are you playing a song at the Cat's Tail tonight, Venti?"
She always calls him Venti.
"I was planning on the Angel's Share."
"Oh."
"Why so surprised, Madame Grand Master?"
"Well, just ... they're doing a two-for-one happy hour special at the Cat's Tail this week. Hadn't you heard?"
"What??" He springs to his feet, a gentle gust of wind propelling him upward. "In that case, I now have somewhere I urgently need to be! You're a godsend, you know that?"
She watches him, an unreadable expression on her face. This woman, this girl, the latest heir in an ancient bloodline of Barbatos's most devoted mortal servants. Cross earrings hidden behind her hair, a swirling turquoise gem glowing at her waist, exhaustion and faith clinging to her skin like so many dandelion seeds to long blades of grass.
"Venti," she calls out, before he turns away to go.
"Yes?"
He waits. Her lips twitch: the barest glimmer of a grin.
"If you see Kaeya at the tavern tonight, please tell him I haven't forgotten about all that paperwork he owes me."
He laughs. Flicks off a lazy salute. "Will do, Acting Grand Master!"
Fresh air fills his lungs, sweet and good.