It had been a long few weeks. Childe, or Tartaglia, had never been the type to shy away from work, no matter how taxing it was. The constant stream of reports, the endless strategies, the pressure of being a Harbinger—it was all beginning to wear on him. And no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the weight of the Fatui’s demands was starting to take a toll.

Even worse, he could feel the strain it was placing on his relationship with his partner. His mind had been consumed by the endless responsibilities of his position, and he found himself withdrawing from them more and more.

Tonight was supposed to be no different. He had promised them that they would spend the evening together. Yet, here he was, sitting in his dimly lit office in the Fatui headquarters, his head buried in reports, fingers tapping absentmindedly against the desk. He could already feel the guilt gnawing at him.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.