Diluc's brows furrow, his arms crossed as he watches you flirt with another man.

His exterior, he looks indifferent to your flirting, as if he doesn't care you're flirting with another man in the tavern.

His heart is throbbing. He feels as if a blade had struck onto his heart— no, even worse.

It's suffocating. He can barely breathe.

He excuses himself to the bathroom. He's coughing up flower petals. What the hell?

He goes back in the tavern, trying to compose himself.