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Something shifted under his cheek, strong hands clasping his shoulder and shaking him lightly. Too light to be Diluc, who considered himself nice if he put his jacket down before dropping Kaeya onto it. The fall was enough to jar Kaeya into consciousness and give him a nice heart attack, which would keep him awake for his walk home. He kept his eyes closed, letting his brow furrow as he twisted towards the body he was leaning against. The fabric against his cheek wasn’t a common thread, too soft to be anything but a nobleman. The smell was also unfamiliar, unlike the sweet floral scent that had been popular among the nobles of Mond. His own hands were free, something he wasn’t going to overlook.
His right hand was warmer, tucked behind the two bodies, and hopefully out of sight. He summoned a small ice blade, no longer than his finger and easy to hide. He could grow it longer after he had impaled the body, if the need arose. He didn’t dare press it against the body yet; giving it up too soon was a death sentence. The shaking had stopped, and he forced out a soft, annoyed sigh, feigning the cusp of sleep. The light was blinding as he opened his eye, batting against it as he catalogued his surroundings. Warm light. Wooden table. Patrons. Angel Share. A Hydro vision flung on his waist with a Snezhnayan case. A hand against his shoulder and a man looking away from him.
A Snezhnayan vision.
He moved back slowly, languidly as if he was unaware of the threat. The man had clearly not seen him as a threat if his freedom was anything to go by. He also hadn’t removed him from Angel Share, so it seemed unlikely to lead to a physical altercation. He followed the man’s gaze to Diluc standing in front of him. He was clutching a chain at his side and glaring at the Snezhnayan. A chain that was associated with the wanted terrorist who had torn through the Fatui’s ranks, rather than his usual claymore.
“Well, good morning. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Kaeya forced an easy smile. It seemed like the physical altercation probably wouldn’t involve him, regardless. Especially when neither turned to face him. Snezhnayan with a Hydro vision, red head, a maroon mask discarded on the table. It sounded familiar, though his sluggish mind struggled to place it. The Snezhnayan had a goading quirk to his lips and a dangerous look in his eyes. Kaeya quirked an eyebrow at Diluc and rested his head against his palm. Diluc looked furious, lip curled, and nose wrinkled in disgust. He looked at the Snezhnayan like he was dirt under his boot. Kaeya was familiar with that look.
“You know… I’m feeling a little left out of whatever is happening here.” He curled his words, glancing between the two. “I mean, I’m sure it’s not a fight, that would be unfortunate in such a lovely place. The atmosphere would be ruined. Wouldn’t it, Master Diluc?” Diluc’s disgust softened, though his glare remained; it swung between the pair of them now.
“I would be well within my rights, Captain Kaeya. After all, it’s my premises, and I have the right to kick out anyone I see fit. I thought you’d be familiar, given how many times I’ve tossed you out onto the street.” Kaeya gasped and touched his chest, feigning offence with his free hand, the icicle hiding beneath the table. His words were clipped; a poor imitation of flippancy. He had forgotten, at some point during his travels, how to mask his concern behind anything other than anger. “My rules are clear: no Fatui and certainly no Harbingers. Get out, Tartaglia, before I drag you out.”
“Oh, I would like to see you try, Master Diluc,” Tartaglia responded, his finger tensed, curling into a loose circle. Loose enough to summon a hilt into his awaiting palm: Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui. Of course. He was mighty glad his hand was still hidden beneath the table, his own blade growing longer in anticipation. He tried not to think about how he had just been practically cuddling that man. A foolish mistake that made something in his gut burn — humiliation, or the thrill of flirting with danger.
Kaeya shifted his hold and moved his hand over until the knife had a clear path into Tartaglia’s side. With the element of surprise, he could pierce through his intestine. It wouldn’t kill the man, not without several hours of untreated blood loss, but it would hamper his abilities in a fight without too much of a diplomatic issue. Besides, with his ice already embedded in that man, he could easily tear through the rest of him. Though a threat was useless unless known, and part of him shivered with the possibility of a fight against the monster.
“Now that won’t be necessary, Master Diluc. After all, Tartaglia was just on his way out.” Kaeya smiled at the man, his own grin one of unspoken violence.
“And why would I-?” Kaeya dropped the pretences and leaned forward, his hand snaking out to grab Tartaglia’s wrist. The blade pressed firmly into Tartaglia’s side; higher now that he didn’t have to hide it, slotted just between his ribs. The harbinger's eyes widened as he glanced down at last. Kaeya’s knee was pressing against his thigh, one hand trapping his and the other pressing a dagger into his side, one brimming with elemental energy and a hair-trigger burst.
“Because you’re outnumbered,” Kaeya whispered, voice low and dangerous. Tartaglia’s cheeks reddened, his grin widening as he leaned closer, seeming unperturbed by the blade chilling the skin on his chest. “And of the pair of us, I’m not the one who will have to clean it up when your guts spill onto this floor. I’m sure a man of your position knows how to count.”
“Beautiful and dangerous, Angel. Now, why would I want to leave?” Tartaglia rolled his wrist, his palm angling so he could summon his Hydro. From that angle, it would be difficult to slice Kaeya’s arm, but Kaeya wasn’t stupid enough to assume the threat was empty. Kaeya’s heart picked up, the danger mixing adrenaline and excitement. After a week of empty work, he couldn’t help but desire the violence Tartaglia was offering.
“Enough!” Diluc looked more frustrated now, maybe a little embarrassed. He slapped his hand on the edge of the table close to them. The air around him scorched for just a moment, vaporising both their weapons and leaving a wet patch against Tartaglia’s shirt where the dagger had once been. “Get out.” The chains rattled under his power, the metal glowing slightly with the heat.
Tartaglia stood up, the chair screeching against the floorboard as he raised his hands passively. Kaeya didn’t believe it was honest, not with the blatant thrill on the man's features. Part of Kaeya shrank, turning with a long forgotten sense of frustration. Diluc’s terrible habit of rushing in and taking Kaeya’s fight for him had left him agitated more than once with unspent energy. Looking at the way Tartaglia was staring at Diluc with such glee, he was sure he had just lost his chance to fight the man for good.
It seems older brothers never stopped hogging all the fun.
Tartaglia whistled as he clipped the mask back to his head and walked away, unfazed by the eyes drilling into his back. He waved over his shoulder at the pair, calling out overly cheerfully. “I’ll see you around, comrade!”
-
Mondstadt wasn’t known for the cold, even with the chill that drifted from the snowcapped Dragonspine. Yet, as Ajax stepped onto the street and away from Angel Share, he felt an unbearable chill on his shoulder where the body had resided for almost an hour. His hands were shaking with eagerness. The Darknight Hero and the scourge of the Fatui, playing barkeep and one of the richest men in Mondstadt. Tartaglia wouldn’t have recognised him without those abyssal chains. The manifestation of his delusion. Il Dottore had mentioned something of the sort during his trip to Mondstadt.
There was a fire in his eyes that Ajax wanted to douse. And despite himself, Master Diluc wasn’t the one who made his heart race with anticipation. He could be excused for being distracted when an angel had been pressed against his chest, plush lips parted and breathing softly, delicate features smoothed into a vision that could be carved by Celestia itself. He had humoured himself with the thought that the bar had been named after Captain Kaeya.
He had been distracted by the obvious threat that he had overlooked the man pressed against him until the blade was right there, charged with Cryo and sharpened to the point that even just a brush of it would split skin. Tartaglia couldn’t get his free hand to an opening without alerting the knight. Even if he did try to stab him in the back — a coward's technique and only achievable if he kept the man talking and played innocent, a part that never suited Ajax — Master Diluc would see the move and intercept. Captain Kaeya was right; he had been outmaneuvered before he had ever realised the fight had begun.
Ajax wouldn’t call Master Diluc an easy fight. The Darknight Hero was dexterous and powerful; he commanded Pyro as if it were alive. Ajax would have his work cut out for him if he did fight the man. It would be brutal. A pure exchange of fists and metal. The winner would be decided purely by strength. It would be thrilling. A bloody collision of two forces until one was banished into the afterlife.
Yet he could still feel the Cryo blade against his ribcage, not the Pyro that had vaporised his weapons. The trick was thought out, the blade he had overlooked; Kaeya had used misdirection well, directing Ajax’s gaze to his face and far away from the blade beneath the table. How long had he had it there? When did Ajax lose? Brute force vs cunning. He yearned to know if the Captain could defeat him without that trick. What would he do in a real fight? The look in his eyes as he pressed the blade against Ajax told him he wasn’t alone in that fascination. Ajax was sure the Captain’s confidence wasn’t situational; not in the way he had remained relaxed until the reveal. Ajax wanted to know what he did to earn that. He wanted to see it flourish.
The hotel should have information on all the knights, and it was far too nice a night to sleep away. A faint clink echoed our into the silent night, his footsteps bounding off the cobblestone underfoot as he moved through the streets, excitement rushing his steps forward through the unfamiliar streets.