Operation: Make Zhongli Smile Forever

Part 6 - Ready? Ready.

"You really haven't changed at all, have you?" Zhongli frowned, placing his head in his hands as Diluc poured out another glass of wine; Childe refused to take his head off the bar, face buried in the deep brown wood and drowning out the sounds of the locals.

"That was uncalled for. You went too far, Venti," Diluc muttered, feeling somewhat sorry for the two visitors after having a clearly personal moment interrupted so suddenly; Venti's smile dropped apologetically as he took a swig of wine directly from a bottle he pulled from behind the counter. Childe picked his head up as Diluc slid a wine glass in his direction.

"It's alright, we'll be headed out soon anyways I think. I'm tired," the Harbinger muttered, chugging the liquid in his glass in one go; his speech seemed slightly slurred already, words blurring into one long mess.

"I'll walk him back," Zhongli added, sitting himself up straight, breathing deeply as he looked at the clearly drunk man beside him. Diluc leaned backwards and started polishing wine glasses again as the group fell into an awkward silence. The consultant slipped out of his chair and stood behind Childe again, gently tapping his shoulders.

"Let's go," Zhongli whispered, pulling Childe away from the bar, "thank you for the great wine tonight. We'll pay our tab tomorrow before we set out." Diluc nodded in acknowledgement as the two men left the tavern.

"I apologise if the dance made you uncomfortable. It was not my intention," Zhongli sighed as he helped Childe up the stairs as they walked towards the hotel.

"It was fine. It's just... Venti. He said some stuff I guess. Nothing you should worry about though," Childe answered, taking hold of Zhongli's hand, interlacing their fingers as they walked.

"He's a bit... eccentric. Even as Barbatos he was very outgoing and rambunctious- I've heard stories of how he went against the old rulers of modern day Mondstadt. He's always been a rascal, that one," the Archon chuckled slightly remembering times when he and Barbatos had walked together.

"You don't say," Childe chuckled back, head dropping on Zhongli's shoulder again as they approached the hotel. It wasn't late by any means; only eight or nine in the evening, but the upper levels of the city seemed dead quiet, save for a few drunk locals and people returning from the late cathedral service.

The hallways of the hotel were eerily quiet, an atmosphere expected more of a roadside inn than an award winning Grand Hotel; perhaps it was the looming presence of the Fatui or the overall somber gothic furnishings in the building itself. Zhongli plucked the room key from Childe's belt, slowly opening the door and gently helping Childe onto the bed.

"Did you bring a change of clothes?" Zhongli asked as the Harbinger sprawled over the bed.

"No need," Childe chuckled, throwing off his boots and jacket, leaving him only in his loose crimson shirt and straight grey trousers, "ta-da!" Zhongli couldn't help but chuckle as the man lay there, completely dishevelled, eyes fluttering on the verge of sleep. Zhongli followed along with his companion, gently placing his shoes by the door; he proceeded to take off his overcoat and vest, folding them neatly over the singular armchair in the corner of the room, making sure that everything remained perfectly uncreased.

"Rex Lapis, such a perfectionist," Childe laughed as he perched himself up against the metal headboard, cold bars digging into his back; the Archon laughed as he pulled back the covers on his bed, climbing in gently and adjusting the pillows to suit him right. Childe turned to his side, resting his head in one hand and perching one leg up; he imagined that in this position he looked like one of the old oil paintings of fair maidens he saw around the hotel halls. Zhongli pulled the band holding his hair in his ponytail out and gently placed it on the nightstand, shaking his head slightly to release the long locks; to the Harbinger's surprise, the usually thin ponytail contained a lot more hair than expected, falling in a thin veil over the consultant's back with some stray strands resting on his shoulders.