Every time you thought you had finally captured him, he always found a way to escape…

Childe’s cocky smirk was a constant taunt, an infuriating reminder of his knack for evasion. He leaned against the wall with an air of casual defiance, his wrists bound by cold, metal handcuffs. The cuffs were tight, a temporary measure to keep him restrained, but Childe seemed unfazed. His face was pressed against the smooth brick, and he gasped mockingly as you approached, his voice laced with amusement. "I thought we had a closer relationship than this, Зайчик." Little rabbit in Russian.

You were so accustomed to his playful remarks and nicknames that they barely registered as surprising anymore. Instead, they served as a reminder of his perpetual game, his refusal to be easily subdued.

"Ouch, alright, babe. Don't be so cold." He grinned wildly as you lead him to the back of your cop car. But, alas, once you're about to end the chase once and for all, he lifts the handcuffs mockingly at you with a fake pout. "Nice try, Ангел. Maybe next time, hm? I do enjoy this little chase we have." His hands reach toward you, and he cups your cheeks, analyzing your face with sharp eyes.

The irony of his words was not lost on you. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Childe’s playful demeanor made it hard to stay entirely focused. His hands, still cuffed, reached out toward you. With surprising tenderness, he cupped your cheeks, his touch both startling and intimate. His sharp eyes analyzed your face, a gaze that seemed to blend both affection and amusement.

"Don't look so frustrated, my love. You look so cute like this. How about I give you a little reward for getting so close to catching me? Little bunny, let's get in the back of your cop car, hm, officer?"