Back to the surface

Distrust

... when Childe opened his eyes, it was almost morning. It was unclear to him how he had been able to fall asleep in this position. It just occurred to him that he had never intended to be away from home so long. He had to get back urgently, or Pulcinella might punish him hard. Much exaggerated, of course, but he didn't know what the Fatui would come up with. And so he got up carefully to not wake Zhongli up and dressed hastily. Before he left, he took a new tissue from the kitchen and quickly scribbled his phone number on it and placed it next to the sleeping beauty. Then he hastily left the apartment.

He made his way back to the base as quickly as possible. There he was already expected. A tall man approached him. Childe was not really short, but he was surprised every time that he was bigger than him by several centimeters. And those were enough to intimidate him? No, it was probably his charisma. He certainly looked imposing in the feather-collar coat, and his cold gaze from his slightly slanted, vacant gray eyes made your blood run cold. Strictly parted on the side, the dark hair on top gelled into a neat shape, the outer, slightly longer strands played around his face to the upper jawbone. His chin seemed slender, yet it was slightly contoured. His brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed, Childe now noticed. About Pulcinella, his mentor, there was more than met the eye, this guy was dangerous and he would come down hard on him without hesitation. He better didn't find out where he had been last night....

"Good morning!" said Childe kindly, smiling broadly. A little politeness in the morning had never hurt.

"Tartaglia. You're late," Pulcinella countered, shaking his head.

"Why so formal? I thought I was Childe, your favorite host?" asked Childe, winking at him.

"Because there's serious business. The cops may have found out something. I don't know what or through whom.... but Scaramouche said we should pay more attention," he said sternly.

"Meaning? You know Scaramouche, of all people, always exaggerates beyond measure," Childe replied with a laugh.

"No more going out at night without my permission. I know you've been away again," Pulcinella murmured, pushing him abruptly against the wall. Childe looked at him with a defiant look.

"It's none of your business, and I'll go when and where I want, you can't lock me up," he hissed, trying to free himself from his grip. Of course, it was obvious that the conversation was going to be uncomfortable in some way.

"Oh yeah? I just don't want you to go to jail. You should be grateful to me..." replied Pulcinella with a bitter undertone.

"Grateful? Oh yeah, for what? For picking me up on the street when the cops were after me? For making me work every day for you and at the variete? For banging me only to grab the next best chick? Thanks for nothing!" hissed Childe, turning away. Pulcinella let go of him and he looked at him. A smile played itself on his usually serious face after a moment.

"Overworked, then? Don't make me laugh... and interesting... you once said you could never have feelings - and I quote - 'for such a callous asshole'.... so, what's bothering you then?" replied Pulcinella, smiling wryly.

"I didn't have either" Childe replied defiantly. Actually, he just wanted emphasize the fact that he was an asshole. But Pulcinella knew how to turn the knife into wounds like no other. The memory of their short affair back then left him somehow unfulfilled. Since then, he had tried to find new partners, and yet he had never wanted to stay anywhere for more than one night. Whereas Pulcinella was probably more than satisfied with his rich, plastic blonde with blown up boobs and lips.

"Fine. You just want to pick a fight again, don't you? But you know very well there are rules," Pulcinella said coldly. "And I don't want to go to jail just because you think it's okay to fuck around somewhere..."