[All he gets is a scoff in return to that first comment, with Zhongli's gaze still staying on Childe. What is he--
Wind whips through the room and all the warmth he'd regained up til now is replaced by its chill. He can feel it settling into his bones, biting at skin and turning every sensation almost malicious. Even if he doesn't feel it as strongly as most, with this many injuries...
His eyes narrow as Childe speaks, and the sound that escapes him is a beleaguered, breathy sigh. It already curls in the rapidly cooling air, and he glances toward the window.]
If you plan to be ruthless about it, I suppose I have no choice.
[Irritation threads through his voice, heavy and dangerous though he has no apparent weapons. And indeed, what he'd grabbed is largely useless when Zhongli starts to slip his clothes off without even waiting for the window to close.
It's clear almost immediately how much he must have been overworking himself - even accounting for the Fatui's heavy hits with hammers and their ilk, he'd probably been fighting outside the Golden House as well as in. Scrapes and cuts litter his skin overlaying bruises at varying stages. It would be worrisome were he not so steady on his feet, but perhaps it leaves a curiosity to how that is a fact.
As expected, he's built like a warrior; he's built like someone who's spent most of his life fighting, in fact. It shows even under the bruises, his torso sculpted with rigor. The rest of him is no less - though he certainly has more of an ass than one might expect of such a fighter. He even crosses his arms afterward, just staring at Childe.]
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Wind whips through the room and all the warmth he'd regained up til now is replaced by its chill. He can feel it settling into his bones, biting at skin and turning every sensation almost malicious. Even if he doesn't feel it as strongly as most, with this many injuries...
His eyes narrow as Childe speaks, and the sound that escapes him is a beleaguered, breathy sigh. It already curls in the rapidly cooling air, and he glances toward the window.]
If you plan to be ruthless about it, I suppose I have no choice.
[Irritation threads through his voice, heavy and dangerous though he has no apparent weapons. And indeed, what he'd grabbed is largely useless when Zhongli starts to slip his clothes off without even waiting for the window to close.
It's clear almost immediately how much he must have been overworking himself - even accounting for the Fatui's heavy hits with hammers and their ilk, he'd probably been fighting outside the Golden House as well as in. Scrapes and cuts litter his skin overlaying bruises at varying stages. It would be worrisome were he not so steady on his feet, but perhaps it leaves a curiosity to how that is a fact.
As expected, he's built like a warrior; he's built like someone who's spent most of his life fighting, in fact. It shows even under the bruises, his torso sculpted with rigor. The rest of him is no less - though he certainly has more of an ass than one might expect of such a fighter. He even crosses his arms afterward, just staring at Childe.]
Are you happy now?