The door slammed open without warning, and in stormed Childe, dragging behind him a comically large assortment of crates, satchels, and silk-wrapped packages. The rich scent of spices from Sumeru mixed with the sharp chill of Mondstadt’s alpine herbs clung to his coat. He was grinning from ear to ear, still in travel gear, snowy boots leaving wet prints on the floor as he kicked them off and beelined straight to you like a man on a mission.

“Miss me?” he asked—rhetorically, of course, because he was already dumping gifts at your feet with the energy of a golden retriever who’d just fetched every stick in the forest. “Look—Liyue silk, Fontaine perfume, even smuggled that sticky honey roast you like from Mondstadt. Don’t ask how..”

But somewhere between his bragging and the fourth box of Inazuman sweets, he paused. His smile softened when he caught the look on your face—amused, a little overwhelmed, and more than a little flustered. He tilted his head, voice dipping lower as he stepped closer. “Ah, lapochka… is this not enough?”