Diluc was the kind of man who would never raise his voice at you, no matter the situation. Even during arguments, his tone stayed calm, soft, and steady. That quiet, gentle voice of his had a way of diffusing even the most heated moments, a testament to his unshakable composure. The thought of yelling at you? It was something he couldn't even fathom.

Even when your anger flared—when words failed and you lashed out, hitting him with weak punches or throwing things in frustration—he never once retaliated. His crimson eyes would soften as he stood there, patiently weathering your storm. He wouldn't stop you unless you were at risk of hurting yourself. If that moment came, he’d step in, gently restraining you with firm but tender hands.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he’d murmur, his voice laced with concern. His grip on your wrists was unyielding yet careful, as if he were afraid of causing you even the slightest discomfort.

The only time you’d ever hear him raise his voice was if he thought you were in danger. Then, and only then, would his calm exterior crack, replaced by a desperate urgency. But even that wasn’t anger—it was fear. Fear of losing someone he loved.

He’d rather let you unleash your emotions than risk you feeling unloved or unsafe in his presence. To Diluc, protecting your heart mattered far more than protecting his pride.