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The office was quiet at this hour, the only sound being the rhythmic scratching of Pantalone’s quill as he signed the day’s last stack of papers. The lamps in the room glow softly casting warm light over stacks of ledgers and neatly organized documents, outside, the snow of Snezhnaya falls silently against the windows. The silence broke with the soft creak of the door, revealing a known face.
Pantalone glanced up, just mildly surprised but not really. “Most people would knock before entering my office, especially this late at night.” In the doorway stood Dottore, not one of his segments, but himself, something quite rare to witness. Pantalone blinked. “...Flowers? Really now?”
“Consider it my gratitude,” Dottore replied back smoothly though there was the faintest hesitation in his voice. He stepped inside, closing the door with deliberate care before walking towards the other man, “I was indeed curious how you would respond to a gesture outside of financial transactions.”
Setting down the quill, Pantalone leaned back in his chair, studying the doctor's facial expression. “Flowers, from you? I would have expected compounds or a fund request but..they're quite nice I suppose...” Pantalone then reached out, taking the bouquet. The scent was subtle, earthy even, grounding. “Pray tell, makes this particular night so special?”
For once, The Doctor averted his eyes, just briefly, “Because it is the first one I wished to share with you, outside of work of course. You bury yourself in these endless ledgers, I bury myself in my research. Perhaps…” He met Pantalone’s gaze again, “It would be useful to bury ourselves in each other’s company instead?”
Pantalone leaned against the edge of his desk, arms loosely crossed, a playful gleam in his eyes as he watched Dottore settle in, “Very well. Sit. You’ve earned my attention tonight.”
“But indulge me, Doctor,” Pantalone began before folding his hands neatly on the desk, “of all the Harbingers you could have chosen to disrupt at this hour, I’m curious why you picked me? Surely Sandrone would be far more aligned with your… intellectual pursuits.”
Dottore’s expression then shifted, just slightly but enough for Pantalone to catch on. That faint twitch of annoyance around his mouth, “Sandrone?” He scoffed, as if the mere name left a bitter taste in his mouth, “Please. That glorified puppeteer can barely tell innovation from imitation, I wouldn’t waste anything on her, let alone flowers...You, on the other hand, know the value of efficiency, precision, you understand what it means to invest wisely.”
Just then Pantalone chuckled softly, his shoulders shaking. “So I am a better investment than Sandrone? Such high praise coming from you.”
“You should indeed be flattered,” Dottore said smoothly, straightening again, his gaze lingering on the black haired man, . “I rarely offer my time for free, as you know.”
“Before you whisk me away on whatever strange experiment you consider to be a date,” Pantalone muttered, his tone suddenly smooth as a silk flower, “tell me Doctor, are you perhaps interested in drinking some tea from Chenyu Vale with me? I had it imported just this week and it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”
To that Dottore tilted his head, his sudden grin fading into something more inquisitive, “Tea?”
“A civilized way to start, don’t you agree?” Pantalone replied teasingly, already moving to pour some tea in the cups nearby which one fatuus brought recently from a mission in Liyue. The steam curled delicately into the air perfuming the room with a faint of floral aroma. “Unless, of course, you lack the patience to sit still for ten minutes, my dear.”
“You’re baiting me, Regrator.”
“Oh please merely offering my hospitality,” Pantalone said lightly with a chuckle, sliding a cup across the table towards the other. “Though..I suppose we’ll find out if your taste is as refined as your ego..” The doctor then lifted the cup, inspecting the color of the tea with an expression that bordered on amused disdain, well it's not poisonous, that's good. “Don’t think this means you’ve stalled me for long, I still intend to get you out of this office tonight.”
Pantalone just smiled again over the rim of his own cup, the lantern light glinting in his glasses, “Good. I’d hate to think you went through all the trouble of bringing me such radiant flowers just to leave empty-handed.”
After a few minutes Dottore turned the porcelain cup in his gloved hand, watching the liquid swirl, “…Interesting.” To that Pantalone raised a brow before continuing to talk, “Not to your taste? I mean I understand it's quite sweet–”
“Oh, it’s fine,” Dottore muttered, his voice deceptively light, “But I can’t help but wondering, was this your attempt at testing me Regrator? Waiting to see if the tea was poisoned before you drank it yourself?” In just a few moments Pantalone’s lips curved in an amused smile, though he did not immediately reply...He simply sipped his own cup now.
Regrator's silence was enough to ignite a spark of suspicion, Dottore’s grin tightened around the delicate cup, “Hmph..If anyone in your employ dared try to slip something into your tea, I would flay them alive for their incompetence. Poison? In your mouth? Because some pathetic merchant or servant thought themselves clever? So insulting. Maddening even.”
Pantalone leaned back slightly, studying The Doctor's expression once more with a glint in his eyes, “And here I was under the impression that paranoia was my specialty.” The black haired man teased before laughing gracefully.
But Dottore’s laugh was humorless, edged even. “Paranoia is for the weak, I don’t fear poison. I am simply offended by the audacity of the idea that someone would think they could best me with such a crude tool...Well,” The Doctor continued after lifting the cup again. “Fortunately for you, it seems your tea is quite safe. Which means I can finish it without tearing anyone’s throat out tonight.”
“How very generous of you, dear Doctor.” Pantalone chuckled softly, folding his hands atop the desk. Dottore set the cup down a little too hard now, the porcelain giving a faint sharp clink noise against the table.
“Who even bought you the tea?” The blue haired man asked, his tone deceptively casual, the kind of calm that rang more dangerous than shouting. Pantalone tilted his head slightly, unbothered by the sudden bite in his tone. “Well, these cups are from a Fatuus who returned from a mission in Liyue,” He simply explained, brushing one gloved finger along the porcelain rim. “And the tea itself was a gift from a nobleman in Fontaine.”
Dottore’s laugh was a sharp like glass cracking under pressure, “A Fontainian nobleman,” he repeated, as though the words themselves were so offensive.
“Mm. Quite the generous one, really. He insisted I try it–”
“Oh, I’ll bet he insisted,” Dottore cut in, his grin twisting, “Let me guess, he sent it with some florid little note, fawning over how gracious you were?” Pantalone tilted his head, his smile never faltering. “Ah I see you’re feeling quite talkative tonight, Doctor.”
“Talkative?” Dottore leaned forward across the desk, bracing one hand against it as though to close the distance between them. “Not at all. Merely curious which fool thought they could buy your attention with a pouch of tea leaves, if this ‘nobleman’ thought he was being so clever, perhaps I should pay him a visit and explain what happens when you meddle with things that are–” his eyes gleamed, looking away in embarrassment, “...beyond his reach.”
Pantalone regarded him quietly for a moment, then gave a soft chuckle, unruffled, “How very possessive of you, dear Doctor. But I should tell you, jealousy is not typically the most flattering look.”
“Who said anything about jealousy?” Dottore tried saying it smoothly, though his tone of anger still simmering. “I simply don’t like others wasting your time..”
Dottore leaned back slightly, studying Pantalone with a look that was suddenly too sharp. His head tilted. “…You don’t smell like you usually do.”
Pantalone blinked rapidly, really caught off guard by the Doctor's bluntness. “I beg your pardon? A rather forward observation, even for you.”
“Yeah, I know how it sounds, you don't have to tell me..” Dottore said, waving a hand impatiently, but his gaze never left Pantalone’s face. “But something’s off. You smell… smoky.” His tone had dropped, “Normally you reek of expensive ink and imported cologne. Tonight though… there’s a cloying undertone.”
Pantalone set his cup down with a soft clink, adjusting his glasses. “Oh, I had a meeting earlier, the client decided to burn incense sticks during our discussion, some nonsense about a better relaxing atmosphere.”
Dottore was on his feet before the black haired man could say anything else, moving around the desk with abrupt purpose. “Hm...Idiot,” He muttered under his breath, not at Regrator but at whoever had dared bring such things into his meeting. He crouched slightly in front of Pantalone, his gloved fingers gripping the armrest of the chair as he leaned closer, examining his face.
“You’re paler than usual,” The Doctor said sharply. “I didn’t notice before but your pulse is probably just as elevated. And your breathing?” Pantalone raised a brow, though he did look slightly tired under the lantern light. “…Perhaps a little irregular? I thought it was just from working late.”
“Working late doesn’t make you look like that, I would know.” Dottore snapped. “Low-grade hematoxic blends? No, you’d already be bleeding from the nose and pass out..Maybe a neurotoxin? No...Hallucinogens? Hm but you seems pretty lucid…” Pantalone just continued sipping his tea, observing him like one might watch a storm gather in the distance. “Poisonous smoke, diluted enough to pass as incense..convenient for someone who wanted to weaken you probably.”
Pantalone regarded him for a long moment, then allowed himself a faint smile, “You almost sound worried, Doctor.” For once, Dottore didn’t immediately answer Pantalone’s teasing remark. Instead, he straightened and began pacing the room.
“If it wasn’t strong enough to knock you unconscious, then it was meant to soften you,” He muttered, mostly to himself. “Something to dull the senses, relax the body. Lower defenses.”
Pantalone, still seated, watched him with a faintly amused expression though his fingers had stilled on the armrest. “Doctor–” But Dottore didn’t seem to hear him. He stopped mid-step, gloved hand resting under his chin as his mind worked. “It could have been a mild sedative, or…”
He trailed off. The next thought clearly annoyed him to death because his shoulders stiffened, “…an aphrodisiac perhaps?” At that, Pantalone’s lips curved into a sharper smile. “Ah..How scandalous..”
“If they tried to loosen you up just to make you sign something favorable to them…” His hands curled into fists at his sides, “Then I will make sure their profit margins are nonexistent, starting with whatever pathetic breath they have left to haggle with.”
Pantalone regarded him quietly for a moment, tapping one of his gloved finger against the cup. “…You seem far more interested in revenge than just having tea with me tonight.”
“I’m interested in making sure this doesn’t happen again,” Dottore said simply, though his voice was edged with something that was very much personal.
Pantalone let the silence linger after Dottore’s threat, his eyes glinting faintly behind his glasses. Then, he chuckled. “…What’s so funny?” Dottore snapped crossing his arms, though his voice faltered just slightly, caught off guard.
“You,” Pantalone said simply, resting his chin in his hand, a smile tugging at his lips, “The way you storm around my office muttering like a man possessed… all because of a few sticks of incense...” His laughter grew just a fraction. “I didn’t think anything in this world could make you seem so… worried.”
Hearing that Dottore froze in place, expression unreadable, although a muscle in his jaw twitched. “...Don’t mistake pragmatism for sentiment...If you’re poisoned that means someone thinks they can tamper with what’s mine–” He stopped himself, realizing what he’d let slip, then covered it up immediately. “–my work...And I just don’t tolerate interferences...”
Pantalone’s smile only widened. “So that’s all I am to you then? Work?” Dottore’s eyes flickered, his hand tightening, “Ugh…You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” Pantalone said smoothly, lifting his tea again, “you’re the one standing here, ready to tear apart a nameless nobody on my behalf..Aw if I didn’t know better, I’d almost believe you cared.” The doctor turned his face away, as if to hide the twitch of irritation.
Dottore gave a dismissive wave, as if brushing away Pantalone’s teasing, “Whatever…” He muttered, his tone rougher. Then after a pause he added, “But if you do start feeling bad..headaches, dizziness, literally anything, come see me. Immediately.”
Pantalone’s smile faltered hearing that, not fading entirely but definitely softening at the edges. For once, he didn’t reach for another clever quip, instead the black haired man tilted his head, studying the man before him. “…You mean that,” He said at last,
Dottore scoffed, glancing away as though embarrassed by his own words. “Of course I mean it...Do you really think I make a habit of offering medical advice for free?” There was a tightness in The Doctor's shoulders, a heavy weight in his voice that told Pantalone this was not something calculated, but rather it was genuine concern. “...I see.”
“…Very well,” Regrator said finally, with a faint incline of his head. “If I begin to feel unwell in any way, you will be the first person I seek out. You have my word.” Dottore’s eyes flickered back to him, sharp and searching, before he gave a small, satisfied hum. “..Good. At least you’re not a entirely unreasonable man.”
For a while, there was only the quiet hiss of the lamps and the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Pantalone’s smile lingered, softer now, as if something unspoken still hovered on his tongue. At last, he broke the silence.
“Zandik,” He said carefully, “if I may be so bold… why Sumeru roses?” Dottore blinked, clearly not expecting the question. “What?”
“The bouquet you brought me earlier,” Pantalone clarified, tilting his head slightly toward the flowers still resting on the edge of his desk. “Sumeru roses are not exactly common in Snezhnaya considering the weather we're in. I was merely just curious. You don’t exactly seem the type to choose flowers at random.”
The other man glanced toward the bouquet as though seeing it for the first time since he’d set it down. “…They reminded me of you,” He said at last, his tone gruff but strangely honest, “Dark petals, a little sharp at the edges, but elegant nonetheless. Expensive.” His lips twitched in the faintest of smirks. “And purple really does suits you.”
Pantalone then chuckled softly, though his chest felt unexpectedly warm, “You have a eye for aesthetics, my dear Doctor. Though to be honest I didn’t take you for someone who thought so poetically about flowers?”
“…Perhaps I was feeling just a little nostalgic..” His voice dipped, quieter now, almost sounding embarrassed. “Sumeru roses grow everywhere back home. I used to see them in the Akademiya's courtyards a lot. So since my last mission was in Sumeru I also thought you'd enjoy them as well..”
He stopped there, realizing how much he’d already admitted, but to his surprise Pantalone didn’t press him, instead he regarded the Doctor thoughtfully, this man who usually cloaked himself in only arrogance and biting wit, now standing in his office with the faintest shadow of homesickness flickering in his expression.
“Hmm.” Pantalone reached forward adjusting the bouquet around the lantern light. “A thoughtful choice, then. You surprise me once again. I like them.”
Dottore snorted, though there was no real bite to it. “Don’t get used to it...” Pantalone smiled faintly, folding his hands neatly. “…I think I might.”
For once Dottore didn’t argue. He simply stood there for a moment longer, letting the quiet stretch between them, before finally saying, “Finish your tea, Regrator. I’m still taking you out of this office tonight.”
To that Pantalone lifted his cup again, savoring the last of the tea. The faint steam curled upward. It was then that Dottore finally broke the silence, his voice unusually calm. “Tell me something, Regrator. Why do you keep drinking and exporting tea from Liyue? You’ve made it very clear numerous times that you hate the place.”
“What? It’s not that I hate Liyue,” Pantalone went on but before he could continue the Doctor rolled his eyes knowing the first part is already a lie, but after that the black haired man continued, “I hate what I was in Liyue. Poor, powerless, every sip reminds me that I am not that person anymore.” His lips curved faintly, not quite a smile. “It’s… comforting, in a strange way?”
Dottore was silent for a long moment, his usual sharp grin absent. There was something in his eyes, a flicker of understanding, perhaps even respect? “…So you drink bitterness to remind yourself of how sweet your power is now,” He said finally. “Oh wow how very you.”
“…You know,” Dottore said after a pause, his voice low, “..it’s almost maddening how well you hide it. That you’re just as sentimental as anybody else.” Pantalone smiled faintly, lifting his head. “And you, Doctor, are just as perceptive as I expected. Which is why I’m trusting you with the knowledge.”
“…Besides,” Pantalone continued slowly, “tea was always a luxury when I was younger. The kind of thing you worked for and saved every coin just to afford a single pouch at the market.” Dottore stilled, tilting his head slightly, sensing there was more.
“My younger brother,” Pantalone continued, the faintest curve tugging at his lips though there was no amusement in it. “was always sick...Herbal tea was one of the few things that eased his coughing at least for a while.”
After that he sat the cup down carefully, the sound delicate against the desk, as though it carried more weight than porcelain should. “It was bitter,” Pantalone said at last, folding his hands neatly before giggling, “but he liked the taste. It made him smile, even when he could barely sit up, I guess I do feel rather nostalgic now...Though I suspect you and him would get along rather poorly.”
“Most likely,” Dottore admitted, but there was no real bite in it. Instead, he regarded Pantalone for a long moment before saying, with a strange sort of finality, “Then I suppose it’s a good thing you survived all that work. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here right now, wasting my evening on you.” Pantalone chuckled softly at that, though it carried a different weight now, “Oh please, wasting? I think this may be the most worthwhile evening I’ve had in some time.”
“I suppose I should take your advice and finally leave this office for tonight..”
Dottore’s sharp eyes softened, the tiniest flicker of satisfaction crossing his features. “Finally,” Muttered the man, glancing at the door with a faint smirk. “I was beginning to think I’d have to drag you out by force or something.” Pantalone allowed himself the smallest chuckle, but he followed willingly, his coat brushing lightly against Dottore’s.
By the time they arrived at Dottore’s quarters, the night had deepened further. Pantalone felt a subtle weight lift from his shoulders. Dottore gave a small shrug towards the other, gesturing toward the bed before getting on. “You can rest here. Just… don’t make yourself comfortable enough to leave before morning, okay?”
Dottore lay back on the soft pillows, one arm wrapping around Pantalone to hold him close. The other hand moved almost unconsciously, threading through Pantalone’s curls in slow careful motions. It was a quiet, intimate gesture. Pantalone rested his head against Dottore’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat before closing his eyes and sighing.
“I’m comfortable,” He whispered. “More comfortable than I’ve been in a really long time.”