Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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When Aether is called to the central police station, he assumes Nahida found a lead to some other notorious crime the Fatui were committing or going to commit. He was expecting to be given another case that Sumeru’s police department could not investigate themselves due to already being in a bad position with the mafia. If Nahida or Cyno sent out their own officers to track them down, it would almost be a declaration of war, and with how fragile the city’s government and law enforcement were at the moment, there was little for the Archon or chief of police to do unless they wanted casualties.

Of course, Aether’s own head had a significant bounty on it, but he only had himself and Paimon to worry about. On the contrary, Nahida had a whole city.

After entering the matra’s central headquarters, the investigator is greeted by Cyno. The police chief dips his head respectfully to Aether, a small appreciative smile on his face. Aether offers his own bright smile back.

“How are you?” The investigator asks.

“As per usual,” Cyno states. “And you?”

Aether gives an affirming nod with his smile.

Cyno understands and turns away from the investigator. Over his shoulder he tells Aether, “follow me. Lesser Lord Kusanali instructed me to take you to her once you arrived.”

Cyno begins walking out of the main office and down a hallway stretching further into the building, towards the interrogation rooms. Aether follows at his heels, his eyes drifting to the concrete surroundings. Both his own dress shoes and Cyno’s clack against the floor, and the two of them fall into a comfortable silence. The general mahamatra leads him to the room at the very back even though most of the interrogation rooms were empty. Aether refrains from asking about the peculiar location Nahida chose and continues trailing silently after Cyno.

He stops in front of the reinforced door. “She’s waiting in here.”

“Thank you,” Aether says, nodding once.

Cyno opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. Aether tilts his head a bit to the side in a listening gesture. Cyno takes a breath, contemplating whether to speak or not because of Aether’s curiosity, and then he does. “I am not yet informed about what the Lesser Lord is planning but…I trust her judgment. I wish you luck. I’ll be taking my leave now.”

Cyno dips his head towards Aether and then marches away, back to the main office. The investigator feels an uncomfortable chill run up his spine then. There are no other officers in the gloomy hall, and a sense of foreboding stirs uncomfortably in his chest. Shaking his head to clear the anxiety that started fogging it up, Aether takes a breath. He adjusts the white and yellow scarf around his shoulders (that clashes horrendously with his formal attire, his brown suit and slacks) and pushes open the heavy door of the interrogation room. 

Inside the concrete room is empty and small with a metal table in the middle and a chair on either side. Nahida sits in the one closest to the door, and in the other chair, Scaramouche, the Fatui Harbinger Aether had arrested nearly a month ago. Aether’s hand on the door tightens as long-forgotten anger rushes through him. It wasn’t a hot anger, more of an icy one. Diluted, but ice still burns the skin. He glares openly at the Balladeer as he fully steps into the room and lets go of the heavy door so it slams shut behind him. Scaramouche levels the investigator with his own scalding glare, and a smirk crawls its way across his face from witnessing Aether’s reaction to seeing him. 

The Balladeer himself has looked better. There is a dark bruise under his eye that is healing, bandages wrapped around his head, his hands, and probably some more underneath his black and white-striped prison attire. His neck brace is gone, but his throat is still layered thickly in cloth for support. His left arm is in a sling with his fingers poking out from a heavy cast. The cuts that littered his face and his split lip are nearly gone, but they were still visible. The police had only managed to arrest him because his injuries hindered any kind of escape after falling from the building he and Aether fought on.

Scaramouche might’ve been able to save himself if he had tried, if he had grabbed the railing or reached out for anything to hold him up. Aether didn’t know, and quite frankly never had the opportunity to ask, why.

Why Scaramouche had simply given up once he had lost and let himself hit the pavement below.

It had been a gruesome arrest because of that, and Nahida did not allow anyone to place handcuffs on the Balladeer’s heavily broken body. Aether thought the same, though holding a bit of sympathy for an injured criminal did not mean their crimes were null and void. Seeing Scaramouche once again pulled at the tight skin of a scar in Aether, a phantom pain of anger.

Nahida turns around to watch the investigator enter the room and the expression she gives him is one of sympathy. Aether’s fists clench at his sides and he redirects his attention to the Archon. 

“Nahida…?” He asks softly, swiftly trying to contain his contempt since he is not angry at her.

“Investigator,” Nahida acknowledges. “Thank you for coming as quickly as possible. I know you are confused but—”

“You look like you want to kill me,” Scaramouche cuts in, his arrogant smirk still gracing his features.

Aether shoots him a glare again, leans his weight back on his heels, and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s feigning relaxation, but his nails dig into the sleeves of his dress shirt and his hands grip his biceps far too tightly for him to fully act the part. “I do, actually.”

Scaramouche whistles lightly and raises his brows in mock surprise. “A strait-laced law enforcer wishes to break the very law for me. I’m flattered.”

He dryly deadpans the last sentence, and his face abruptly falls back into a scowl. Before Aether can bite back at him, Nahida tells them to stop it. She gives Scaramouche something akin to a glare, but it was too soft to be anything threatening. Then she looks to Aether.

“Investigator, I know you and the Balladeer have a complicated history,” she pauses, gauging Aether’s reaction for a second before deciding it safe enough to continue speaking, “but he is quite the sitting duck right now.”

Aether’s brows furrow deeper as he listens, waiting for the point Nahida was trying to make.

“He’s a Fatui Harbinger, one of the executives of the mafia. He holds many secrets of the organization that the Fatui do not want outsiders to get a hold of…” the Archon glances at Scaramouche’s scowling face and then back to Aether. “He’s asked for protection.”

Aether contemplates that, lifting a hand to hold his chin with his thumb and index finger. “Protection from what? The Fatui?”

Nahida sighs. “To put it frankly, the Fatui—specifically another executive, the Doctor—were not planning on inviting back a loser.”

“Sometimes it’s you using them, other times, it’s them using you. It’s the way of the world,” Scaramouche shrugs indifferently then winces from the strain of the movement on his injuries. “I’m in no position to complain about my circumstances. I’m just trying to save my own skin.”

“Finding your life sentence to be a rather cushy position?” Aether raised a brow, genuinely curious.

“Life sentence?” The Balladeer breathily laughs and winces again, which almost makes Aether feel sympathetic to his pain. That thought lasts only for a second because— “I’m getting nothing more than a slap on the wrist and a light scolding. After that, I’m basically a free man.”

Aether looks at Nahida, disbelieving and asking for clarification. The Archon has a resigned expression on her face as she explains: “in exchange for protection and for his charges to be dropped, the Balladeer has agreed to forfeit all knowledge he has of the mafia and provide investigative assistance to me.”

“Nahida…” Aether takes a step back, the calm composer he had melting away instantly. “He’s…he’s done irreversible things.”

“I know, Investigator,” Nahida tilts her head sadly. “But I find this to be quite the opportunity—”

Scaramouche scoffs at their conversation. “If you wish to kill me, get on with it already. If you were to do so right now, none would be the wiser. Nahida might try to stop you, but if you succeed, there is no threat to you, is there? Investigator ?”

Aether bites the inside of his cheek but doesn’t say anything. The Balladeer is just edging him on, but even without receiving a response, a malicious grin spreads across Scaramouche’s face and the ex-Harbinger leans back in the wooden chair he sits on, apparently satisfied anyway. 

“Well…that was a rough start to this,” Nahida begins. “Please calm down, both of you. There are still things I have not explained yet.”

Aether takes a breath and softens his expression to show he was willing to hear her out. The Archon’s tense posture falls, making her look a bit relieved. She thanks the investigator. Scaramouche rolls his eyes, but he does not object. Aether is, by no means, a fan of this deal. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth knowing that the Balladeer’s crimes might go unpunished. 

Nahida speaks in a serious tone as she addresses the investigator. “Firstly, I want to tell you that the Fatui have extensive knowledge that I do not have, nor do the records of Sumeru’s Irminsul—knowledge about your sister.”

Aether’s eyes widen and he glances from Nahida to the Balladeer. The latter leers at him. “Tempting now , isn’t it?”

Aether immediately shoots him a sidelong glare, though it isn’t very strong compared to earlier. Nahida quickly continues talking like she was trying to finish before either two boys started physically fighting each other.

“In exchange for that, and an offer to help investigate the Fatui in Sumeru, the charges placed on the Balladeer will be dismissed and he’ll be left with a lifelong probation period and a promise of protection. He will still be surveillanced and technically in police custody…but he won’t be locked up behind bars.”

The room falls silent as Aether takes a moment to digest all that the Archon put on the table. While mulling this over, Aether purses his lips and then speaks. “Okay…but how can we trust him? He’s probably lying, Nahida.”

“Where would lying get me?” Scaramouche asks curtly. “The Fatui have already dropped me from their organization. I’m a loose end for them to simply cut off. If this is the best chance I have at surviving and getting revenge on them for using me…then I’m willing to put up with all you oh-so- righteous law enforcement officers.”

“We’ve already had a discussion before you arrived,” Nahida attempts to dispel the tension calmly. “I’ve confirmed that the information he has is reliable. The Balladeer is very willing to cooperate with us for his own safety. I think we can trust that.”

It takes several beats of silence for Aether to reluctantly relent. He accepts, deciding to follow Nahida’s intuition since it has always done them favors in the past. He offers his trust to the reinstated Archon rather than the former Harbinger.

Nahida claps her hands together. “Great! And Investigator, I’m assigning you to be the Balladeer’s probation officer.”

Both Scaramouche and Aether’s eyes are blown wide while they stare at the small girl incredulously. The Balladeer then shrugs indifferently, as if the terms did not bother him, but he still glowers from his seat. Aether takes a moment to choose his words, but then he decides it isn’t worth it. 

“With all due respect, Nahida, I’m a private investigator—not a babysitter .”

“Yes, I know that,” Nahida reaches out a hand to both boys, and then clasps them together with a hopeful smile on her face. “The two of you can work together to investigate the Fatui, the whereabouts of the Investigator’s sister, and in the meantime, protect the Balladeer from the Fatui.”

The small girl looks up at Aether pointedly. “You are still on my payroll too, Investigator.”

Any argument he thinks of falls flat. Aether can end their contract whenever he wants to. He was secretly hired by Nahida, who at the time, could barely scrape together enough money for Aether’s initial hiring fee. For most of his investigation in Sumeru, he was not being paid. He knows he does not have enough funds to move his personal investigations to Fontaine yet. He also knows Nahida won’t force him to do this. Aether can tell her he doesn’t want to, and she would nod and say she understands his feelings. Afterwards she would probably give him a different, easy case and continue to pay his salary that way. 

Then the only reason that would make him accept is the promise of information regarding his sister. Nahida would find that out for him anyway if he chose to not be the Balladeer’s acting probation officer (because there is no way Aether would choose to be his permanent one), so there is nothing necessarily pushing Aether to accept. Yet, the investigator feels a pull instead, drawing him in. The promise of a piece of information he can obtain for himself, that he can slap on his investigation board’s tangled web of leads, conspiracies, and half-truths about what happened to his sister is very tempting. 

He sighs, holding himself upright, and firmly nods once. “Leave it to me.”

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Chapter Text

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The next time Aether steps into Sumeru’s central police station, Scaramouche is waiting for him. He was given his old clothes back, the dark blue vest with red accents and black dress shirt. The matching suit hangs over his shoulders because of his broken arm. The ex-Harbinger still looks worse for wear, and his clothes, torn and scuffed in various places, permanently stained with blood in others, highlights it more. His ostentatiously embroidered black and red bucket hat he always wore is back on his head (he obviously had the same sense of accessories as Aether did). Surprisingly, the hat is the only thing that managed to stay in perfect condition. Aether’s pace slows as he draws closer to Scaramouche. The latter scowls when the investigator stops in front of him. 

“Save your pity,” he snaps. “I don’t need it.”

Whatever expression Scaramouche sees on Aether’s face vanishes instantly and is replaced by an annoyed glare. “It wasn’t pity.”

“What was it, then? Investigator? ” 

Aether is not aware of what expression he had, nor does he care if the Balladeer misunderstands the expression. “Where is Nahida?”

Before Scaramouche opens his mouth, Nahida basically appears out of thin air like she is summoned and rests a hand on Aether’s arm. She can be scarily stealthy sometimes even though she simply walked out from behind the front desk.

“Please do not start arguing the second either of you sees the other,” she exasperates.

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. Aether looks away, almost guilty, and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. Nahida sighs. “Now that I’ve contacted the judge for the Balladeer’s trial and the general mahamatra, his charges should be waived.” She looks up at him and crosses her arms across her chest. “You are basically a free man now. I’m looking forward to your sincere cooperation.”

“As long as our deal holds up, I’ll continue to do so. There will not be any problems,” the Balladeer says, but for the strangest reason, it lacks his usual bite. Aether stares at him as if the former Harbinger had grown an extra head. He is so used to the snarky remarks, the bitter tone, and dripping sarcasm that the investigator forgot that Scaramouche is capable of speaking politely. Aether is unsure of what happened in the past week between the mafioso and Archon for the Balladeer to refer to her with any kind of respect, and he could not even begin to think of his own creative reason for it. 

Nahida nods toward the Balladeer with a soft smile on her face before addressing Aether. “Then Investigator, thank you for your time. I trust that you’ve already discovered something to investigate further?”

Aether nods once. 

“And Scaramouche can add anything else he knows to your files,” Nahida clasps her hands together. “Alright, then off you two go.”

Aether nods again and then pivots quickly on his heels to march swiftly out of the police station. Outside is slightly bustling, though with the station being so high, the clamor of the streets below is kept to a minimum. The investigator begins his descent down the ramp to reach the lower levels of the intricately designed city. 

Because most of it is built on a mountain, the roads are typically used for walking and cannot sustain the size of a car. The lower, more modernized levels at the foot of the city are usually where locomotives and the train station cut through. Sumeru culture is highly treasured by the citizens, even if they are one of the most innovative cities in Tevyat. As much as the city used to condemn the arts, they did hold an appreciation for it when it came to architecture. They could never tear down and replace their architectural phenomenon of spiraling staircases and ramps, their beautifully designed stained-glass windows and decor. It is almost as if they consider the creation of durable parts and the practicality of them “scientific” enough to not be included in the “arts”. It did require lots of planning and mathematical knowledge to design and construct such buildings, but it is still art.

Once reaching the bottom of the ramp, Aether stops and looks back over his shoulder. Scaramouche is still at the top of the ramp, slowly taking his steps. Aether watches him in disbelief and rubs his forehead with his hand as he begins waiting. The Balladeer takes his time, inching down at the speed of a snail. The investigator pinches the bridge of his nose when Scaramouche finally reaches the end of the ramp and looks at him unkindly. 

“Why?” Aether asks, not even attempting to hide his exasperation.

“‘Why’? What?” Scaramouche shoots back, yet he had immediately understood why. “I am heavily injured, if your pretty eyes are just for show and don’t work properly,” he places his non-broken hand on his hip, “I can’t walk at the speed of a jog like you can at the moment. Besides, you aren’t even doing a great job of protecting me so far. Honestly, the Fatui could have already tried to kill me but you’d be too far away to come and heroically save me.”

Even though they share similar heights, Scaramouche stands up a bit higher on the ramp so he looks down at Aether. He lifts his chin up while sneering at the investigator, and his airy tone has a bit of edge to it. “But then again, you want me dead.”

Aether remains silent, crossing his arms in front of his chest defensively. He did, he thinks, but a big part of his newly-acquired babysitting job was to keep Scaramouche alive and well. He would not half-ass his assigned work.

The Balladeer’s eyes seem to light up as he laughs, without mirth. Like he found something vaguely amusing to poke at. “You even admitted it. Some white knight you are.” 

Aether clenches his jaw tightly. He had never felt hatred, really. He is not immune to feeling anger, but outright hatred and unbridled hostility towards a person is uncommon for him. He always tries to be friendly towards other people before and after becoming a private investigator and beginning his journey to find his sister (which has changed to figuring out why and how she came to leading the Abyss Order, the Fatui’s rival mafia).

Scaramouche had been an exception.

His first encounter with the ex-Harbinger had been pleasant until it was soured by the very Harbinger himself. Mona, a self-proclaimed diviner who acts much like a private investigator herself, saved Aether and Fischl, the surprisingly rich girl who had hired the blonde investigator for the day as an escort (apparently she thought he was a famous traveler from another world, not a private investigator). That encounter with the Balladeer had made Aether privy to the Fatui placing a decently hefty bounty on his head. Not enough to attract a Harbinger, but enough for lower-ranked Fatui agents and the gang members of the Treasure Hoarders to attack him from time to time. 

The second encounter was also unpleasant because it was one where Aether had followed a trail of crumbs to a Fatui Delusion factory. He had breathed in the excess fumes for creating the false Visions, causing his mind to feel hazy and hot. Delusions were addictive because of how they were created. The addictive substances used to create them acted like a drug, causing people to keep using the life-draining Delusion for the pure ecstasy of using it, of finally having a sense of ambition (though not everyone reacts the same way). Teppei, a struggling police officer Aether met after being hired by Kokomi, had been an ignorant victim of such a deal, and many others had also fallen prey to the Fatui the same way.

With a clouded mind, Aether had felt his first taste of pure loathing for a living, breathing person. The feeling still lingered in his body like a phantom pain.

To the Balladeer’s provocations, Aether doesn’t respond and merely continues walking. His features are slightly darkened by a light scowl. He takes slower strides though, trying to be accommodating because he is supposed to stay near the ex-Harbinger. 

After a solid five minutes—Aether thinks—of walking down the stone pavement and dodging other pedestrians, Scaramouche speaks up.

“Where are we going?”

The investigator looks back over his shoulder and then turns forward, blatantly ignoring the Balladeer. The ex-Harbinger does not take kindly to the gesture.

“I asked where we are going,” he practically growls.

Again, Aether ignores him. He knows behaving like so is petty, though he could hardly bring himself to care.

“Ha…” 

Scaramouche then grabs a fistful of hair on the back of the investigator’s head. He tugs it back to halt Aether in his tracks. It’s definitely painful, but Aether only quietly hisses, reaching for the back of his head where the Balladeer’s hand grips tightly to the beginning of his braid and the mess of thick, shorter strands of hair. Scaramouche leans closer to Aether, his head hovering over the blonde’s shoulder. He can see the Balladeer’s snarl out of his peripheral vision.

“I’d very much appreciate it if you could give me an answer to my politely asked questions, dear Investigator .”

Aether narrows his eyes, but otherwise keeps a straight face. “…I could punch you.”

“And I can file a complaint to Lesser Lord Kunsanali.”

“You grabbed me first. It’s self defense.”

Scaramouche releases his hold on Aether’s hair. “What proof do you have? I’ll have a new bruise, but it’s not like you lost any hair.”

“She’d believe me.”

Scaramouche clicks his tongue, then curls his lips into a half-snarl as he scoffs. “Of course. After all she is your friend, not mine.”

Aether looks him up and down, brows furrowed slightly in confusion. He did not have a response since, yes the statement was true, but the investigator did not understand the point the Balladeer was trying to make. He didn’t really feel like figuring it out, having already been thoroughly exhausted from simply interacting with the mafioso.

Brushing a few stray strands of hair back down, the investigator gently tugs on his suit collar and scarf as if fixing it and turns away from the Balladeer. Letting out a tired sigh, Aether barely puts in the effort to finally reply to the Scaramouche’s question.

“Nahida gave me a temporary office by an inn. We’re going there.” 

“Don’t you have a child that follows after your heels?”

“ Paimon ,” Aether tells him. He is already aware that the Fatui know about her. It is the reason why he has to constantly move his office around. “And she’s somewhere else while I babysit you for Nahida. Happy?”

Scaramouche offers a noncommittal hum then rolls his wrist in front of him to gesture for Aether to keep walking. The investigator rolls his eyes and takes a right at a corner. Less people stand on the roads closer to the residential side of the city compared to the bustling shopping district, so it is easier to walk on the sidewalk. The inn is down the street, past a few modernized buildings that lack Sumeru’s typical architectural features and style. 

The inn is small, but unlike the buildings surrounding it, maintains a very Sumeru-like structure. Aether has met the owner; a lovely older woman who can cook some of the best curry that the investigator has ever tasted. His office is an addition to the building, separate, but attached. It also has the Sumeru aesthetic, but it is not big enough for any lavish designs. 

Aether slows his pace before they reach the door. Scaramouche eyes him warily as the investigator now stands shoulder to shoulder with him. He watches Aether’s attention shift around them for a second, and he is completely unprepared for a hand to reach out to his shoulder. The investigator feels the Balladeer physically bristle under the touch, but chooses to ignore it. He leans close to Scaramouche, but casual enough to seem normal from an onlooker’s perspective.

“Please,” Aether whispers in a low voice, “please listen to everything I say for the next few minutes.”

The Balladeer’s displeased expression turns to a glower, and he keeps his voice the same volume as Aether’s. “What are you planning?”

The investigator’s eyes light up in a way Scaramouche hasn’t seen before. Unlike the blaze of determination, the chilly, indifferent gaze, a sticky too-sweet smile, or a look of abject horror, this one is new. It is fuzzy , but there is a sharpness to it. The investigator’s small, porcelain-painted smile is laced with—let the Shogun strike Scaramouche down if he is wrong— mischievousness . The Balladeer has half the mind to wonder if the investigator knows how expressive he is at certain moments.

There’s a small bubble of a laugh, one without mirth, more of a scoff, really. Aether lets go of the Balladeer’s shoulder to climb the two steps up to the door of his temporary office. He swiftly pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his brown slacks and unlocks the door. He holds it open for Scaramouche, who waltzes warily inside. The ex-harbinger’s eyes quickly sweep the entire entryway room with a cold gaze, accessing it.

It’s smaller than it looks on the outside and practically bare on the inside. The walls are empty, and the only piece of furniture in the room is a massive wooden desk in the center with a horrendous blue carpet right in front of it. There is a single window at the very back, curtains drawn so the room appears relatively dark. 

A chill of apprehension pricks at the hairs on the back of Scaramouche’s neck. He stands right by the door, allowing for the investigator to step inside but also for him to bolt at a moment’s notice. Aether doesn’t waste time standing outside, immediately following after the Balladeer and shutting the wooden door behind him. 

Scaramouche is entirely calm when he asks, “Do you plan on keeping me locked up like a prisoner here instead of at the station, or is this a secluded room for you to secretly murder me in?”

Aether throws him an unimpressed side-eye look and then kneels down in front of the carpet. He opts to ignore the question. “The reason Nahida had us walk out in public was to attract attention and draw out the rats.”

“I figured as much. The Lesser Lord is quite intelligent. I couldn’t imagine her not having some kind of plan cooked up.”

There is that tone again. The one that is so different from the way Scaramouche typically speaks. The investigator shakes off the unfamiliarity he feels and reaches for the carpet in front of him. Aether tosses up the edge of it, revealing a trap door almost completely obscured if it wasn’t for the slight difference in the sizes of the floor tiles and the small indent for someone to put their fingers and lift the door. Aether does and then looks back at the Balladeer. His eyes settle onto the cast Scaramouche has before he meets the other boy’s harsh gaze.

“Do you need help taking your clothes off?”

The Balladeer’s lips curl slightly. “Why?”

“So I can use them to create a diversion,” the investigator states flatly.

“I’m fine. I don’t need help, and I can be the diversion myself.” Aether stares at him incredulously. “What? You think I’m going to play the role of a damsel in distress and let you indulge in your insufferable guardian complex? My end of the bargain is to help eradicate the Fatui from Sumeru, not hide in a basement while you take out our adversaries.”

“ Investigate the Fatui in Sumeru. We aren’t killing them—it’s also not a basement,” Aether hurriedly corrects, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised by the first suggestion Scaramouche had. “…You actually want to be the bait?”

“Is that so shocking?”

Aether is quiet for a moment, remembering some of the files he has stored in his hidden office, his real one. The Balladeer is someone who was constantly sent to the front lines to deal with skirmishes they sometimes had with their rival mafia, the Abyss Order. While most battles are kept on the downlow to avoid police detection, some information regarding them slips through the mouths or writings of Fatui or Abyss members. The Balladeer follows orders. The Balladeer fights. The Balladeer wins.

The investigator silently closes the trap door. “…No.”

It’s the Balladeer’s turn to give Aether an incredulous look. “Well then, now that we have an arrangement, what’s your plan here? If it sucks, we’re doing it my way.”

-

Chapter Text

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The investigator doesn’t speak much, the Balladeer knows from Fatui intelligence and also from personal experience. The investigator didn’t see fit to inform him of the plan literally concerning the Balladeer himself. Though it may have been because there had yet to be an opportunity to explain, it still pissed the Balladeer off. 

The trap door beneath the carpet led to one of the more modernized hotel rooms across the street, secretly built by Nahida not long after Scaramouche was arrested. Apparently she was already devising a plan to help Scaramouche escape from the Fatui right then and there. The very notion makes the Balladeer want to scoff.

Help him? Save him?

Truthfully, only idiots would think that about the man that has attempted to kill them multiple times. The Lesser Lord is no idiot, at least, but her emotions tie into her thoughts—which does not dilute her rational, but influences it in a way the Balladeer cannot bring himself to comprehend. 

Now the investigator, on the other hand, is an idiot.

He thinks that as the investigator tells him the plan he has, blatantly making his opinion clear with his unimpressed scowl. “Your plan sucks.”

The investigator crosses his arms over his chest with a barely visible pout to his otherwise stoic face. “Well, it’s changed now that you want to participate.”

“Indeed,” the Balladeer slightly lifts his hat, adjusting it on his head. “First off, we don’t know how many are tailing us, and we don’t know if they are simply sentials or assassins. It’s stupid for you to pretend to be me to draw their fire anyways. Secondly, I don’t find you to be the best actor and if you get caught and cornered, outnumbered, out-gunned, or sniped by a sharpshooter—” he has the audacity to look disappointed at his probation officer, “—the escaping part of the plan was Nahida’s, wasn’t it? And you added on this idiotic diversion plan on your own?”

“…no.”

The Balladeer does not believe him. “We will be following my plan then.”

The investigator raises a brow and silently gestures his hand as if giving the floor to Scaramouche. The ex-harbinger would feel smugly proud if the whole display wasn’t sarcastic mockery.

“We can either proceed with Nahida’s plan—though I don’t want to—or we can simply ambush them ourselves.”

The investigator narrows his eyes. “You don’t have anything to defend yourself with.”

“I applaud your fantastic observation,” Scaramouche drawls, voice heavy with dripping sarcasm. “I doubt you walk around with only a single gun concealed under your suit, no?” The investigator does not reply, so the Balladeer wears a knowing smirk. “Can’t trust me with a weapon? And here I thought we were getting along splendidly .”

The investigator lets out a tired sigh, and then lifts the left side of his suit, revealing a small revolver in a holster strapped to his shoulder and chest. He carefully plucks the gun from the holster, spins it in his hand, and then passes the weapon over. The barrel points away from the ex-Harbinger.

The Balladeer freezes, staring at the gun being graciously offered to him. His gaze flicks from the gun’s handle to the investigator, and he quickly stifles his initial surprise. He hesitates for a second before reaching out to take the revolver with his uninjured hand. Sharing a scowl with the investigator, while both of them are still holding onto the gun, Scaramouche scoffs arrogantly. “I always knew you were stupid, but this is just plain suicidal. You’re actually giving me, a dangerous mafia executive , a weapon?” His laugh is short and mocking. The investigator remains silent. “I could end you, you know.”

The gaze the investigator levels him is chillingly lethal, though it simply makes the Balladeer smirk. “I could too.”

He doesn’t miss the way his probation officer held his free hand, ready to reach the second concealed revolver on his right side. The investigator lets go first, and the Balladeer feels the full weight of the gun in his hand. It’s slightly different from the one the Sumeru mahamatra confiscated from him after his arrest, heavier and probably has a much stronger kick to it. He thinks he might have to use two hands to fire it.

“You know how to use this kind, right?”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes, checking the gun for bullets. He sees a whole six rounds in the cylinder, closes it back up, then spins the revolver in his hand. He mimics the way the investigator did it, only instead placing it in the side pocket of his suit. “Of course I do. You read my files that were leaked from the Fatui almost three months ago, no? I was in the mafia and grew up as a gunsmith. I know how to use every firearm.”

The investigator offers a slight nod of acknowledgement. “Then, your plan?”

“Ah, yes. The one that isn’t crafted by an imbecile.” The investigator’s unimpressed scowl is welcomed by the ex-harbinger.

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