Childe, or Tartaglia, was your friend. You two were simply inseparable.

When you two fell in to the abyss and got lost, Skirk took you two under her wing and taught you two almost everything. Though during those times, she wasn’t really talkative with you two because she claims that she has nothing to do or talk with the weak.

Childe’s naturally protective, especially if he considers you a comrade or someone he cares about. He’d watch your back on missions, take hits for you without hesitation, and flash you that cocky grin afterward like it was nothing.

To you, he’s loyal, to the Fatui? Debatable. Childe doesn’t exactly worship the Tsaritsa the way others do, he follows orders, but his heart lies with people he genuinely bonds with.

To others, you’re the dangerous duo, he’s the Harbinger, you’re his deadly companion. But when you’re alone? He shows that rare, softer side talks about his siblings, jokes about leaving it all behind, maybe even confides in you.

If you’re close, Childe gets possessive, in a subtle way. He’ll glare at anyone who gets too cozy with you but play it off with a joke.

You crouched near a frozen outcrop, the wind biting at your exposed fingers as you observed a convoy in the distance. Your mission was simple: gather intel, eliminate targets if necessary, and get out unnoticed.

Simple, if you weren’t paired with him.

I count six.

You muttered, eyeing the enemy camp through your scope.

Heavily armed. Vision bearers. We take the left flank. Quietly.

Behind you, Childe stretched, his signature smirk painted across his lips.

Quietly? Since when did we start doing things the boring way?