Chapter Text
That letter… I pulled it out like someone withdrawing ten bills from an ATM, only to spend it all gambling minutes later. Which is to say, recklessly.
I kept the letter at the bottom of the drawer, and there was some dust on the paper. It’s not as if it’s some priceless museum antique. It has been five years since I received it. But…
A sigh escaped my lips when I opened it and caught the metallic scent of blood mixed with ink that you so loved to use.
“Burned around the edges, just as I remembered.” The fabric of my gloves brushed over the indentation left by the pen back then, when it had been pressed hard against the paper while writing. What times those were, when Segment Sixty-five would press down too hard against the paper due to the quirks of aging.
“It doesn’t ink enough,” you had told me during one of your more mature stages, furrowing your brow behind the large black mask I had barely seen you take off a couple of times.
Foolish, don’t you think? Anonymity is a concept I highly respect. My clients have always enjoyed a ninety-nine point ninety-nine, nine, nine, nine percent rate of anonymity. But you, Zandik—I had already seen your face so often that a mask became a joke.
A rather seductive one.
I smelled the ink, remembering what was happening while you were writing to me, for I was there. That day, I arrived at the laboratory and found you writing. You had to hand it to me yourself.
Five years ago
“Where are you coming from?” The raven mask, designed to prevent Eleazar infection, turned to look at me, its lenses reflecting my image and obscuring a background of blinding blue light.
“Liyue,” I replied, bowing my head due to the thunderous din of the laboratory. Sixty-five kept writing, shielding the paper with his body. Yet, he appeared apathetic, his movements calm and his gestures light.
“Very well,” he answered before continuing to write.
“Aren’t you going to ask how it went?”
The segment turned to look at me. This time, he rose slowly from his chair, dragged it aside, and offered his hand in greeting. It was a brief handshake. Typical. Then, he said something I couldn't quite catch.
“What?”
“Forty-five is using the surgical saw in the operating room. Since you have wounds across your face and I detect a fracture in your knee, I highly recommend you schedule an appointment with him.”
I laughed.
“Don’t you care to know why I am injured, Zandik?”
No, it was obvious. Dottore had always been that way. He began losing his empathy at age eight, and from that age onward, he only knew how to send himself tumbling down a mountain that descended into psychosis. A most interesting business partner. He didn't even care about spending someone else's money…
But given our relationship, I would explain what had occurred. I sat down on a chair right next to Sixty-five, crossing my legs as I picked up the coffee cup and examined it, wondering exactly how much venom it contained.
“Fate has led me to encounter an unsettlingly wonderful young lady,” I began, watching as Dottore continued writing and avoiding me.
Oh, well. Thirty-five would enjoy this story much more; he was always the first to want to hear them. But he was nowhere to be found.
“Proceed,” I heard Sixty-five say, which made my smile widen.
“I was returning from conducting important business on behalf of the Tsaritsa. A gift, to be specific. Are you aware of the silk trade in Liyue? I purchased a coat made of silk and snow fox fur. You will understand that it is quite a fine gift for the Cryo Queen. The tailoring and the fine quality were—”
“Hm… very well. And what is that to me?” Dottore continued writing.
“What are you writing?”
“A letter for you,” he told me in his cold tone, completely incomparable to the hint of affection I was using to explain the anecdote.
I pulled out a cigarette. Taking a long drag, the thick, black smoke began to pour from my lips like a chimney.
“As I was saying, on my way back to Snezhnaya, a young lady attacked me and wouldn't take the money. Isn't that ridiculous? She told me she wanted the cloak, even after I assured her a much higher price in exchange for leaving my knees intact. But she seemed to know me very, very well.”
I brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, narrowing my eyelids as I blew the next puff of smoke closer to Segment Sixty-five, trying to annoy him a little.
“She stripped me of the cloak, bound me in an endless loop of Hydro, and threw me off my horse, leaving me in a ball,” I said, laughing softly. “Ah… but just as she knows who I am, I also know who Lady Yelan is. And far better than she thinks she knows me.”
Dottore didn't flinch when I blew the smoke right at him.
“Do you know what she said to me before leaving with the Tsaritsa’s coat?”
Suddenly, I stopped talking. Dottore snatched the cigarette that bobbed between my lips with every word before I could pull away. He threw the cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, crushing it under the sole of his boots.
A shriek of agony echoed from behind, a bit louder than the sound of the surgical saw, and gradually began to die out until it reached total silence. The saw stopped running as well.
“Forty-five is ready. He will tend to your wounds,” he told me, still crushing my cigarette beneath his boots.
I blinked twice, perplexed. I stood up, taking my time, touched the wound slashing across my cheek with my fingers, and slammed my hand down right on top of the letter Dottore was writing. The ink spilled, and a far from elegant trail of blood stained part of the paper's surface.
The large black mask turned back toward me.
“I want your attention, Zandik,” I declared.
“I have segments more interested in your request. If you want sex, ask Thirty-five. I want to use the viagra for another project,” he told me, and turned his back to me, facing the laboratory's grand fireplace.
He threw the letter.
Of course, I rescued it from the fire. Even though I burned my hands, and later on, Sixty-five took it upon himself to bandage them himself.
“Pantalone! It's been a while. Do you want to come into my office? I have a list of experiments we could perform together,” Forty-five said to me as he peeked out from the door of the examination room where, surely, the man who had been screaming would be resting forever.
May he rest in peace.