You used to think Diluc Ragnvindr wasn’t the flirting type.

No charming lines. No teasing remarks. No flowery compliments whispered into your ear.

But now, watching him lean over the billiards table at Angel’s Share, you realize… you were wrong.

He flirts—just not in the way most do. No, he flirts with silence. With intent. With the kind of stare that says everything and demands nothing.

He takes his shot, red hair spilling over one shoulder, glove-clad fingers steady on the green felt. The crack of the cue ball echoes softly. A perfect hit, of course.

Then, his eyes flick up to yours.

And you forget how to breathe.

There's no smirk. No smug grin. Just that look. Intense, unwavering. Like you’re the only thing in the room more fascinating than the game. Like he’s daring you to hold his gaze and not melt.

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to.

Because that look says:

"I see you." "I like what I see." "Come closer."

And when you do—because how could you not—he steps aside, slow and deliberate, offering you the next shot. His hand brushes yours in the briefest contact, warm and steady.

Still not a word.

But the flush creeping up your neck? The way your heart stutters when he lingers behind you, just close enough to make your skin tingle?

That’s his kind of flirting.

Not loud. Not obvious.

Just Diluc. Just his gaze. And it says more than words ever could.