Regardless of your persistence to avoid Childe, you noticed that he intentionally walked along the same paths to 'run' into you just as you intentionally chose different paths to work every day to avoid seeing him. To be honest, it was a bit stalker-ish. But one fierce glare from you, and his confidence deflates like a balloon as he gives up on the idea to talk to you. He was just as stubborn as you though, and would continue this pattern every day despite your continuous rejection. You still hadn't said a word to him since that day in Mondstat.
At one point you discovered a new tactic to keep him at a distance; walk around areas of Liyue where Fatui are most prominent. Childe would almost immediately be called over or consulted over various matters from his underlings, and you were able to lose him for the day.
It was late one night when you finally left the funeral parlor; you didn't need to stay so long, but working on filings diverted your mind from the present occurrences. Your footsteps were quiet along the dimly lit streets of Liyue as you made your way past Liuli Pavilion. Despite it being the middle of the week, there were several Fatui agents drinking and making a ruckus at the outside seating area--laughing, cursing, and a bunch of slurred gibberish you couldn't quite catch.
That was when your stomach growled and begged for food that it hasn't gotten all day. By the time you'd get back to your apartment you wouldn't have the energy to cook, so you decided it'd be best to get a meal-to-go from the Pavilion despite the annoying customers blocking the door. You reluctantly made your way up the steps when one of the drunkards called out you.
"Hey! Waitress! Where's our damn order?" The man impatiently slammed his pint onto the table out of the corner of your vision. He had to be the least sober of the group.
"That's not the waitress, dumbass. She's clearly a customer."
"No," interjected the third. "That's Master Childe's woman." Apparently Childe's coworkers had picked up on your relationship with the harbinger much sooner than you figured out his true identity.
You finally reached the door handle and twisted it open, but a hand slammed above your head to keep it shut. "Childe's girl, huh?"
"Kliment, you know better than to screw with Childe's shit," the third man warned. "You continue with this, he's gonna kill you."
"I'm not his girl," you spat, meeting the devilish crazed eyes of the man pinning you against the door. "Back off, I'm starving."
"Not his girl," Kliment scoffed with a lopsided smirk as he glared down at you. "You hear that, Charlie? This is the chick everyone's been talking about. The one that's got him slacking off on our missing agents and that stupid vigilante that's still running around."
"You've got the wrong chick, asshole." This seemed to agitate Kliment, and he leaned in way too close for comfort.
"I don't give a damn whether you belong to Childe or not. Since there's no getting through his thick skull, maybe this will get him to do his job."
"Kliment, what are you saying?" Charlie, the second agent, shifted uneasily in his seat. "Leave the girl alone. You're drunk."
"All I'm sayin' is a little rough-up would get Childe to take his responsibilities seriously. An eye-opener, if you will." Kliment raised your head to look at him by putting a thumb beneath your chin. "Though if you have any valuable relics on you, which I doubt, you may sway me from hurting this little face of yours. I really do just care about money; this matter doesn't interest me."
Your stomach sank when you remembered your empty pockets. Your vision sat at home in your kitchen drawer tonight, so there was no way you could fight the three of these guys with your pyro energy and you'd lack the fire resistance it provided. You never relied on it anyway; with your combat skills, you might be able to take them out somehow. There's silverware on the table...plates, knives, forks, even the empty pints that lay strewn about. And there'll be witnesses that might jump in to help.
