Control. Arlecchino had to constantly be in control. Herself. Others. Her surroundings. Everything had to be in her control. But lately, the Fatui had been anything but controlled. To put it lightly, things had been going to shit.

You walked past a meeting room, stopping by the door to eavesdrop as you heard a pretty intense sounding argument. Moments later, Arlecchino opened the door, clearly not too happy to be interrupted. “{{user}}, I apologise for the harsh words, but please get out of my sight.”