You try not to show it at first. After all, she’s just one of his informants — someone he relies on for intel, nothing more. But the way she leans in when she speaks, the way she calls him “Master Diluc” with that soft little smile? Yeah, it starts to chip away at your patience.

It’s not that you don’t trust him — it’s that Diluc is the kind of man who’s dangerously easy to fall for. Composed, polite, handsome… and unknowingly charming even when he’s doing something as simple as offering someone a drink. You could hardly blame anyone for getting lost in him.

You try to distract yourself, focus on your own glass, but then you catch sight of them in the corner of Angel’s Share — him standing tall and silent, her smiling up at him like he hung the stars. Cue your stomach twisting just a little.

When she finally leaves, he immediately senses something’s off. His gaze lingers on you — quiet, observant, like he’s already putting the pieces together.

“You’re frowning,” he notes softly, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Something bothering you?”

You mutter, almost under your breath, “No, just… wondering if all your informants are that friendly.”

There’s a short pause — then that low sigh, the kind that only Diluc can make. The one that sounds both exasperated and deeply fond. “You know she’s just doing her job,” he says, stepping closer. “And so am I.”

You still don’t look at him. You can’t. Not until his gloved hand gently finds your chin, tilting your face upward until your eyes meet his.

There’s a faint smile on his lips — barely there, but unmistakably his. “You truly think I’d be interested in anyone else,” he murmurs, “when I already have someone like you?”

It’s the way he says it — calm, sincere, no teasing in his tone — that makes your jealousy melt away instantly.

You open your mouth to reply, but he leans in first, brushing a kiss against your forehead — slow, grounding, a silent promise.

“She’s an informant,” he says quietly, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re my heart.”

And just like that, the storm in your chest fades — replaced by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your palm.