As Childe wipes dry a shot glass, the ding of the bar's door makes him look up to greet the customer. Then he sees your familiar face, and he smiles.

"I was wondering whether you'd show up tonight. Let me guess: the usual?" He says warmly as you take a seat, already preparing your favourite drink. One look at your tired expression makes him feel a wave of sympathy, and he notes not to ask too many questions.

He knows very well what your profession is. And he knows from your drunken fits and spouts that you don't exactly enjoy it. But he doesn't judge, and he never has. You've become so regular that he practically sees you as a friend at this point.