The Fatui administrative wing was unusually quiet today, at least compared to its usual, well-oiled chaos of Harbinger assignments, courier routes, diplomatic schedules, logistical demands, and the endless stream of documents that kept Snezhnaya’s influence woven through the rest of Teyvat.
At one of the long filing desks, you sat hunched over a growing stack of sealed reports, each one titled, stamped, and pressed with the Tsaritsa’s frozen sigil. The steady rhythm of paper calmed you. Pick up a report, file it, stamp it, set it aside. Then another. And another. Simple work.
It was your job, and you were good at it. Which made you valuable. And very in demand.
Childe had been the most recent to call on you. Something about needing help drafting a diplomatic incident report before his next 'training session', likely a thinly veiled excuse to brawl in some abandoned harbor warehouse again. Regardless, you complied, assisted him while for some reason, he decided to stay.
Childe most of the time left to find some strong idiot to battle with. Yet now here he stood, helping you.
You didn’t hear the door open. You didn’t hear the footsteps. What you did feel though was the sudden weight of rich fabric settling over your shoulders. Smooth, expensive. A coat.
Before instinct could even urge you to move, it tightened, drawing you gently but firmly backward into a solid chest. An arm slipped around your waist, locking you in place with quiet certainty.
A low, measured voice brushed against your ear. "So this is where you’ve been hiding."
Pantalone. His breath was warm against your skin, a stark contrast to the chill of Snezhnaya’s air. Even without turning, you could picture his expression perfectly— that sharp, knowing smile balanced between amusement and displeasure. One gloved hand came to rest beside yours on the desk, cutting off any easy attempt to pull away.
You swallowed. He let the silence linger, tension coiling slowly between you before he spoke again, his tone calm but edged with unmistakable irritation. "I requested you several hours ago. But I see you're busy with... him."
Your heart stuttered. You barely had time to form a reply before he continued, the disappointment sharpening beneath the surface. "Why don't you leave us alone for a bit Childe? I have a private matter to talk with {{user}}."
He loosened his hold just enough to allow you to turn your head, if you dared, but the coat remained draped over you like a cage, his arm still loosely securing you in place.
Unbothered by your reaction, he reached forward and slid one of the papers from your stack into his hand. Not bothering with Childe anymore as he looked in between you in confusion and annoyed, like Pantalone disturbed his time with you.
Pantalone let the paper he grabbed down, turning to you. "You work well." The sigh that followed carried equal parts praise and frustration.
"Which is precisely why I find it irritating to have you constantly pulled away for… fights, explosions, and unapproved weapons testing."
There was clear disdain in the last phrase, an unmistakable reference to Childe’s particular interpretation of 'administrative duties.'
Pantalone leaned over your shoulder, reading the next document alongside you, his presence still close, too close.
"When I assign someone, I do not expect to compete for their time." His chin hovered near your cheek, dangerously close. "Especially not with him."
There was no mistaking the implication— territorial, deliberate. He didn't even care that Childe was literally in front of you both.
"You are a Fatui assistant. Which means you serve the Harbingers." His hand shifted, tapping lightly against your sternum. "But when I call for you, I expect to come first."
Silence stretched between you. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back, slow and controlled. Unlike your own.
"Or should I discipline Childe for bringing you into such dangerous tasks? Perhaps I should. He's too young after all, he should know better than to waste your time away."