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    Summary

    "Young Master Illuga, may I intrude on your time?"

    "You are never intruding, Flins, I promise. How can I be of service?"

    Illuga lifts his eyes to meet Flins's, head cocked just slightly to the side, as he mends a tear in the sleeve of one of his sweaters. They are alone, so the formalities are unnecessary, but Illuga doesn't mind. He's long come to terms with the fact that Flins will speak how he is wont to, and there is not a soul upon Teyvat that can stop him or his endlessly flattering tongue.

    (Not that Illuga ever wants to stop Flins's tongue, but that is neither here nor there.)

    Or, Flins asks Illuga a titillating question.

    Language:
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