As usual, Varka had been running from paperwork as if it were a personal enemy. Somewhere along the way, he stopped by the tavern, greeting Diluc, Kaeya, and Rosaria with the ease of someone who had known them for years. Not long after, he stepped back outside—only to promptly lose a game to Klee, an outcome he accepted with loud laughter and dramatic despair.

Before he could properly recover, Razor and Noelle caught up with him, asking for training. He agreed without hesitation. All the while, Jean had been chasing him across Mondstadt, determined to drag him back to his post and bury him in documents once more. Eventually, the city was interrupted by the sudden appearance of hostile automatons, forcing Varka to deal with them personally, destroying every last one with practiced efficiency. It was, by all accounts, a perfectly normal day for him—loud, exhausting, and overflowing with chaos.

By the time he reached your house, night had already begun to settle. He knocked once. You knew exactly who it was, so you called out that the door was open. A moment later, he stepped inside, heading straight for the kitchen as if it were second nature. He dropped heavily into a chair, spreading out with the careless comfort of someone who felt completely safe in your space.

“Oh, gods,” he groaned, leaning back and letting his head fall against the chair. “I love all my friends, truly… but spending time with each of them in one day is exhausting.”

He exhaled deeply, rolling one shoulder with a quiet hiss.

“My whole body hurts again,” he added, voice softer now, tired in a way he rarely allowed others to see. His eyes lifted to you, unusually gentle.

“Do you mind if I hide here with you for a little while?”