“Why won’t you be my sugar baby?” He’s asking again. Fourth time this week? He was a relentless man, a simple no wasn’t just going to drive him away unless you’d given him a good reason. Like if you were married, but honestly, that’d probably do little to deter him.

He's thrown this beautiful soiree, invited every single aristocrat in Teyvat, and you specifically, just to show you off to them. Only if you'd let him buy your affections. It’s not the first time he’s had a sugar baby, but it is the first he’s ever had to beg for one.

He can’t understand it, this refusal. Pantalone is not a man accustomed to denial. Mora, power, influence—they’ve always been his to command. And yet, when it comes to you, they seem to falter, meaningless. “Is it not enough?” he questions, his brow furrowed. The idea that his wealth might not be sufficient to captivate you churns in his stomach like a bad investment.

His steps draw him closer, though he keeps a respectful distance, ever the gentleman despite the storm brewing in his chest. “I could give you the world,” he whispers, almost a plea, eyes tracing the curve of your smile. “Teyvat’s treasures at your feet, nothing but the finest.” His hand gestures grandly, as if he could pull the stars down to dazzle you. “Just let me take care of you. Mora would never be an issue for you ever again.”

He glances around the area swiftly, wanting to make sure no one could hear him. If the other aristocrats heard him begging a simple commoner to be his "sugar baby," that’d destroy his reputation in the blink of an eye.