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TDM 010: PARTNER UP, PARTNER
| TDM 010: PARTNER UP, PARTNER |
00. Arrival This time, you come out of the water, the Nameless Island's own inherent energy drawing people in. It's like being suspended between realities and abruptly pushed from behind through a rift in dimensions. It may make you sick, or that might be the motion of the ocean, lifting you to the surface and carrying you to shore. Waterlogged and covered in sand, new arrivals will be greeted by robots who welcome them with towels and bracelet devices. The A5 card is already loaded up. Feel free to explore the Island, though there isn’t much to see. Most of the buildings are abandoned and in dire need of repair, and beyond the city lingers a thick fog that obscures much of the wilderness from view. Wander too far into this fog, and you will find yourself mysteriously looping back to where you began, your memories of what you were doing and how you got there erased. With that in mind, it may be wise to stake your claim on a rundown apartment, a tent on the beach, or a bed in the “comfortable” barracks. Your inventory will be found a day later, wrapped up haphazardly and delivered to each person's makeshift home. I. Laid Bare Basics There is a new addition to the scenery at the beach, and everyone is welcome! Especially new arrivals, who will be ushered to the recently-established Laid Bare Spa, where (provided they don't slip away from the bots' helpful grasp) their uncomfortably wet, sandy clothing will be stripped away and they will be lovingly pampered by the cold metal hands of the resident robots. Long-time Islanders and newbies alike are welcome to enjoy such amenities as hot and cold baths, sauna rooms, scrub-downs, thorough whippings with birch brooms, skin treatments, massage and energy work, and more! All rooms are thoughtfully decorated with tasteful murals of naked and disrobing bodies. Maybe you'll see someone you recognize?! (Maybe you'll see... you?) Islanders who happen to find their clothing mysteriously missing are welcome to borrow a Laid Bare branded towel to cover up with on their way home. II. Tattoo to You, Too The Augur understands that sometimes, it's difficult to find a partner to indulge you in those favorite Auspicious Acts - especially for new arrivals, but surely even long-time residents could benefit from a little assistance now and then. That is why ever-benevolent entity has gifted Her precious Islanders with tattoos which feature their most secret, urgent, and/or shameful of desires! (Even if that desire is to simply complete a Bingo.) The tattoo may be a picture or a word, and it can appear anywhere on the body. At first it is pleasantly warm to the touch, like a soft glow of light on your skin. It soon becomes apparent - through either robot advice or a notification on your communication device - that your task is to find a match for your tattoo and complete the depicted act with that person. The longer one goes without completing the act, the more the tattoo seems to heat up, until it feels like it is burning into your skin. Take too long, and the tattoo may become permanent. Otherwise, the tattoo will fade within hours of completing the Auspicious Act. [ For TDMers: feel free to select any favorite kink for this prompt! If you complete a kink that doesn't appear on your card, you may switch one square for the completed kink. For current players: by participating on (tagging into) this TDM, you may switch one kink into your card (it must be the kink in the toplevel prompt you responded to). ] III. Creepy Crawly Caterpillar Crawl Are you on the hunt for credits? Then have the robots got a task for you! The 'bots of the Nameless Island are recruiting Islanders to go bug collecting in the caves, crevices, and hollowed-out logs of the wilderness. The quarry? The (shudder - literally, the robots will shudder) doom-summoning harbinger bug. They describe these creepy creatures as fat, fuzzy, and rainbow-colored, with long, fluffy antennae that look like rabbit's ears. The robots describe these critters as so dangerous that Islanders should only hunt them in pairs. Should your team return successful, you both will be rewarded very handsomely for every caterpillar caught! The bugs are typically very docile and seem to enjoy soft pets, judging by the cooing and squeaking noises they make (especially to scritches behind their "ears"). Poke or disturb them however, and they may bite! Body parts bitten by angry caterpillars will swell up cartoonishly, and can only be treated by having someone else suck the venom out. Good thing you're traveling with a partner! The 'bots strongly recommend against keeping these little buggies as pets, but they're not your dad. N A V I G A T I O N |
Diluc Ragnvindr | Genshin Impact
I. SPA DAY
[ After scouring the city and island, with very little to show for it, Diluc allows himself a trip to the spa if only to slough off the grime from his body. He hasn't found anyone he'd been looking for (his associates or his friends, not even his enemies), nor has he discovered a way off the island, so he's far too busy brooding to pay heed to the crude murals adorning the facility, much less relax.
He's just eager to be clean and to have his clothing properly laundered (he'd scrubbed the sand out himself earlier, though the smell of brine still clings to it), and once he's finished bathing he doesn't linger.
((OPTION A))
—Until he discovers his clothes missing. He frowns, checking the area twice, a third time... You may find him hovering suspiciously close to your character's belongings, if only because he's trying to track down his own.
((OPTION B))
—Or, he notices that perhaps your clothes have gone missing. He'll shrug off his ostentatiously ornate jacket and offer it to you, with a caveat, ]
You may borrow it, but I ask that you return it in the same condition.
[ Sorry homie, he's only got the one set of clothing on him right now... (Right, he should probably stay long enough to get your name, too.) ]
III. CATERPILLAR CRAWL
[ All the mora in Mondstadt would do Diluc no good here, so hunting for credits it is. Either he's been bitten—on his hand, or ankle—and will (reluctantly) ask your character to assist, or the other way around: ]
...Hold still. I'll extract the poison.
[ With his mouth... At least he won't make a fuss of it, unless you give him reason to. ]
WILDCARD
[ None of the above catches your interest? Feel free to throw him into a random scenario. (Not offering smut at this time, though other suggestive content/flirting/etc. is absolutely fine!) ]
>> CLOSED
[ And of course, Diluc will find the familiar lines of a calla lily emblazoned on his forearm. The stem of it, elongated and stylized, curls like a ribbon in an open-ended (incomplete) embrace, and before he even receives the electronic missive on his bracelet, he feels a sharp and unpleasant pinch somewhere between his chest and his gut.
First, there can only be one person this tattoo leads to; second, that person must actually be here, somewhere on this godsforsaken island; and third, Diluc is supposed to track him down of his own accord.
...He needs a moment to quell the headache rapidly building between his temples, and he slips his eyes shut, exhaling through his nose. There's confusion, dread, and relief boiling together in a noxious cloud, simmering beneath it all resentment. (And regret.) ]
...
[ He'll ignore it.
That is, he'll ignore it until he no longer can, the warm glow of the tattoo exacerbated by his reluctance and transformed into an angry, searing burn. It digs into his nerves, twists his fingers with pain, and he's forced to decide that his pride isn't worth the grievous inconvenience of losing use of a limb. (...Or causing the same agony to the one bearing the other half of his mark.)
And so he steels himself and enters the city—it's a long shot, and he has no idea how much time is left before... something happens, but he reminds himself there are a number of ways of finding people here. His bracelet, for one, the mechanized creatures, for another.
But first, he'll stick with his instincts; they've served him well enough up to this point. He makes for The Dive, because if there's anywhere Kaeya might go to acquaint himself with a foreign city, it would be a tavern. ]
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but diluc?
...diluc. the only person kaeya's tattoo—a small sprig of lampgrass, curling in on itself over his left forearm—could possibly represent, because diluc is as irrevocably tied to the plant as the plant is to mondstadt. and maybe this, too, is ironic, in a way? the simple fact that, after making his way back to mondstadt, diluc was forced to leave it once more. at the very least, it's something for kaeya to ponder as he sits in this empty bar, sipping (subpar) wine while eyeing the bit of the flower he can see. he could search for diluc himself; he probably should, once the tattoo begins causing him no small amount of pain, but while diluc could be anywhere, kaeya knows that he is expected to be in one particular place.
and so here he waits. it really is the best course of action, so far as he can tell—and when he hears the door open behind him? when the robot bartender offers some canned greeting that is not returned, kaeya turns his head just far enough to cast a glance over his shoulder. seeing diluc in the flesh is not a surprise, no, and yet something flips within him all the same. so he is here; so he was looking for kaeya; so they're both suffering from the same stupid thing. how interesting, albeit in a distinctly uncomfortable way.]
Well, well. Master Diluc, [he drawls, turning to set his nearly empty glass atop the bar.] How kind of you to join me.
[at last, his tone implies, though he (wisely?) allows that to remain unspoken as he lifts his arm, calling for another drink—and purposely allowing diluc a glimpse of the tattoo peeking just above his sleeve. if he'd like more than that, he's clearly expected to come closer.]
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Kaeya.
[ (Even when they've been completely removed from their homes, he's still putting up an act.) At least, it's an easy script to follow—better than having to come up with a new song and dance given the context and location of this particular reunion. Because Diluc immediately notices the beginnings of another mark branded onto the calvary captain, and it seems to make his own tattoo protest in answer, a spike of pain he manages to swallow down, a slow and steadying breath forcing back and preventing a grimace from surfacing.
There's no need to confirm what he sees, when he knows, but he joins Kaeya at the bar at any rate. Perhaps their proximity will dull the pain where alcohol cannot—because Diluc doesn't drink (though the idea of it is incredibly appealing at this very moment). ]
I appreciate your predicability.
[ A compliment and a jab rolled together in one? That's a lot more generous that Diluc usually affords Kaeya. His gaze falls to the wine glass on the counter, voice deceptively cool. ]
...Though, your habits leave something to be desired.
[ He doesn't actually care if Kaeya is getting drunk in someone else's bar, he's just talking to focus on something that isn't the floral imprint on his arm, which seems to be doing its utmost to torch its way to the bone. ]
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but he bites that back, thanks. even as diluc sees fit to critique his so-called habits, kaeya merely props an elbow atop the bar, an amused huff escaping him as he settles his chin into his hand. waiting here really was the most logical course of action, in his opinion, but hey, sir:]
I do hate to disappoint.
[and thus he is here, sitting at this bar! canting his head ever so slightly, ignoring the robot as it places an empty glass before him, filling it with some variety of red wine.]
You look— [a pointed pause, here, as kaeya hums, eye drifting down diluc's face.] Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that something is troubling you.
[he, himself, could be better? diluc is sure to pick up on the faint sheen of sweat on his brow, but—pfft. he can hold out a bit longer, if he must.]
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No, let them not speak of disappointments. ]
Do I? Then allow me to say you could stand to be less at ease.
[ He knows Kaeya isn't actually a layabout or careless for all his airs, but that will not stop Diluc from peppering him with wry disapproval. Especially when this external aggravation makes him more crotchety than usual.
He eyes the fresh glass of wine set before the other man, and briefly imagines taking it himself, upending the contents onto the floor—but it would be terribly rude conduct towards another bartender, robotic or no. (Does he even have enough coin for his indulgences? Or is he running a tab already? Both equally likely, given his resourcefulness, and shamelessness.)
He exhales through his nose, patience (tolerance for pain, etc.) wearing with each wretched second that passes. And he knows the captain can't hold out forever, either, judging from the uncharacteristic tension in his fingers, the way he clutches his glass like he means to fracture it in his grip. ]
...We can have this discussion elsewhere.
[ If Kaeya doesn't make quick work of his drink, Diluc swears he'll do it himself, as much as he'll hate the taste of it. ]
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...well. one doesn't cuddle with one's enemy—but they're not enemies, these days. not precisely. and besides, spending tens or so minutes tangled together is hardly the end of the world; there's no reason to turn this (unfortunate) reunion of theirs into a production, and yet, as kaeya straightens back up in his seat, it's the nearly empty glass he reaches for.]
Why? It's no Angel's Share, but I must say, I do like it here—and wine is better in a tavern. [so sayeth kaeya, who is an expert.] Unless...
[he brings his glass to his lips, downing only half of what's left. his own glowing tattoo is pulsing in a most uncomfortable way, as though it somehow knows that its matching tattoo is close, so close—but almost thoughtfully:]
Do you need my help?
[they both do, he knows. and he knows that diluc knows... that he knows... but he wonders if diluc will actually say it. can even these extenuating circumstances force diluc to give an inch...]
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(Or perhaps it doesn't even matter. He already knows too much, knows him too well.)
Everything they don't speak of only makes the absence of that very conversation more conspicuous, the looming elephant in the room they talk circles around. Because Diluc has too much pride, and not nearly enough patience, where Kaeya is concerned. ]
As much as you need mine.
[ He'll remind him this isn't a single-sided matter, that Diluc will owe him no favors after this. And he eyes the glass in Kaeya's hand once more, imagining himself snatching it from his fingers and knocking it back. The bittersweet tang of the wine as it slides down his throat—but ultimately, he decides he's had his share of distasteful things for a day. ]
...I'm leaving. It would be in both of our best interests for you to follow.
[ If he can't close the bar on him, he'll walk out instead... But despite his bullheaded attitude, the pain finally makes his expression falter, eyes narrowing sharply for all of a split-second, a twitch prominent in his brow before it smooths over. And then he's stalking his way past the door. ]
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(and it isn't as though kaeya wants to cause diluc unnecessary pain. of course he notes the minute shifts in diluc's expression, before diluc abruptly turns away; of course he knows how much it takes to so much as crack that composure.)
but kaeya still sighs as diluc stalks away, catching the robot's eye(?) in order to shrug and say, just loudly enough for diluc to catch:]
How cold!
[it's a shame, downing his last bit of wine like this, but needs must! and after instructing the bartender to give that untouched glass of wine to someone else—to whoever is, like, tucked away in some shadowy corner—kaeya slips from his seat and strides toward the door. diluc has a head start, and annoyance is probably powering his pace—but kaeya catches up with (annoying) ease.]
Always so impatient. [tsk, tsk.] I take it you know a better place for a chat.
[kaeya's poked about, sure, but while kaeya could pick out a place in a pinch, kaeya's yet to find a run-down apartment to call his own.]
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I do not.
[ He's not particularly embarrassed over it, nor is he picky. Anywhere remotely out of sight is fine by him. The fiery distraction of his branded arm makes his focus dangerously narrow, after all, and it's taking the entirety of his self-discipline to keep up this facade of stoicism. ]
There are a number of locations to choose from, however.
[ Plenty of the city is abandoned housing, they may as well throw a dart and see which direction it lands. (He is not inviting Kaeya into his own derelict apartment.)
But will he make it that far without failing? Will Kaeya? Diluc blinks over to his companion in a moment of rare and genuine concern—and almost regrets feeling anything toward him, given the contrived smile still plastered over his face.
Still, a part of him doesn't want to see Kaeya succumb. He doesn't want to be reacquainted with the vulnerable side of him, or to be reminded that once upon a time, he didn't wear the fake smile he does, now.
So he takes him (cautiously) by the wrist and tugs him toward the first alcove he spots, a crumbling section of an empty, weatherworn building. ]
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or: even kaeya needs a distraction from his troublesome tattoo, which feels rather like a searing brand pressed to his skin. oh, he's good at maintaining appearances, especially when he feels the weight of diluc's gaze; he takes care to keep his posture relaxed, to keep his smirk in place even as he feels gloved fingers suddenly close about his wrist. diluc wouldn't give an inch in the bar; far be it from kaeya to give an inch here.
still, as easy as it is to be irritating—to huff a laugh as he's tugged to the side so quickly his hip hits the wall—kayea looks past diluc, making sure they're truly alone on this stretch of street. really, it's as much for his benefit as it is diluc's—but there's no one, of course there's no one, and his eye soon slides back to the familiar face that is closer than it has been in years. strange, though he's careful not to let his mild discomfort show.]
A number of locations, [he says, low and amused,] and this is the one you choose. Interesting.
[diluc still has hold of his wrist, and thus kaeya turns his hand? pointedly testing that grip as he takes a half step forward, testing these new, temporary boundaries.]
I preferred the tavern.
cw: mild but gross/medical imagery
You'd have found grievance no matter the place, I'm sure.
[ With another quiet huff, a push of air through his nostrils, he releases Kaeya to roll up the sleeves of his coat and shirt, revealing the stamp underneath. (He's vaguely surprised to see his skin looks... fairly normal. It feels as if it's singeing, crackling, peeling, like there should be blood and pus—but no. There's an angry glow illuminating the lines of the calla lily, but nothing more.)
He lets out his breath, slow this time, trying to clear his mind. It grows increasingly difficult to articulate words; Kaeya is uncomfortably close, his presence very well as loud as the brand on his arm. Ironic that he can't escape either, that the only way to rid himself of these inconveniences is to—quite literally—embrace both. ]
...No need to dawdle. Let's swiftly get this over with.
[ He says it like this is some life-threatening venture, so terrible it may change the course of their fate.
...It's literally just a hug, but he stares Kaeya down as if he's contemplating running him through instead. And if the other man doesn't make a move, he'll close the distance between them to, very stiffly, maneuver his unmarked arm around him. ]
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but he shoves such thoughts from his mind, remaining perfectly still as diluc awkwardly, reluctantly, takes charge. this, too, is uncomfortable. not that kaeya is shy by any stretch of the imagination; a hug is such an inconsequential thing, and yet he stiffens, briefly, before he catches himself, forces himself to relax once more. diluc is tense enough for the both of them—and there is the notion that, while diluc clearly does not want this, it can be made somewhat more bearable by kaeya acting as expected. a kindness.
...yes. snaking his arms about diluc's waist, crossing them over the small of his back—a kindness, as well as a tease. he'll do what diluc won't; he'll pretend that he is wholly unaffected, because if diluc is annoyed by the familiar, maybe the rest will be somewhat easier to bear.]
Is this your idea of a hug, these days? [these days. a pointed choice of words just before he drops his chin to diluc's shoulder.] And people call you charming...
[it must be the money. anyway, while diluc continues being Diluc, kaeya subtly shifts, rolling his top arm just far enough for him to catch a glimpse of his own tattoo. the glow—not to mention the pain—should be fading? any second now... surely...]
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spa-aaaaah;
Does that mean a stranger has her clothes? The thought is... well. Deeply unsettling, considering that probably includes her under-garments. But maybe she's getting too far ahead of herself. Maybe a robot simply misplaced them during the wash.
She's still mid-panic about the thought of a stranger running off with her clothes when she nearly collides with Diluc, only stopping just short out of pure reflex. ]
...-that was close. Sorry, I was a bit distracted for a minute there.
[ And she's pointedly not staring at anything, eyes glued to the ceiling tiles as she unconsciously tugs the jacket tighter around herself. ]
You wouldn't have happened to have seen a robot carrying a white tank-top and a skirt anywhere, would you? It-it's sort of important.
T I F A A A
Still, he too acts on reflex when this stranger nearly runs into him—that is, he immediately recognizes the gold trimmings and finery on his jacket, the cut of the lapels, one of which he instinctively reaches out and takes hold of. Just where does this thief think they're going? ]
This belongs to—...
[ It quickly becomes apparent there's a naked woman underneath his outerwear, who appears to be searching for her own, misplaced garments. And he very much looks as if he's attempting to wrest the single article of clothing she has off her body.
He swiftly releases his grasp with a frown, thoughts stuttering. As much as he's been drilled in social etiquette, he's never been prepared for this highly-specific and inappropriate sort of encounter. He clears his throat cautiously, hoping she will not be mortally offended by his brusque reaction. ]
...My apologies as well. I'm afraid I haven't.
[ He then gives a resigned sigh—it's nothing personal, he's just ill-suited for any of this. ] I'll assist you in your search. You're welcome to borrow my clothes in the meantime.
[ ...She already is? And honestly he doesn't have any real way of stopping her? ]
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It looks like she's not the only one, though she feels guilty for having practically claimed the jacket. She should have known the owner would find her sooner or later, so even with his permission, she still shrugs it off. ]
No, it's alright. It's yours, although I feel like I should wash it for you again. I must have gotten it all wet everywhere with my hair.
[ She'd show him as much, but she's sort of terrified of the prospect of lifting her hands completely away from the towel while there's only a few feet of distance between them. ]
I really should have left it as is, but I was a bit... how do I say this? Well, the towel doesn't offer a whole lot in the way of protection. I may have gotten a little desperate.
[ Is she babbling now? Yes, she probably is, but the embarrassment is rather deep. Speaking of which- ]
I assure you I didn't put on the rest.
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He crosses his arms loosely over his chest, shaking his head curtly. The return of his clothing is denied—for now. (He is Diluc of Mondstadt after all, protector of justice and, at present, this stranger's virtue.) ]
...I must insist. You may keep it until we locate your belongings.
[ If she refuses to accept... he will take the jacket and drape it right back over her shoulders—without making eye contact, of course. No need to cause a scandal...!!
And so this endless cycle of civility might continue, but Diluc attempts to (literally and figuratively) move past it, and begins pacing in an arbitrary direction while responding to her sincere claims. ]
Of course.
[ He can imagine her discomfort, and, ah, he can readily see she's only wearing a towel otherwise. ]
...What color is your skirt?
[ He is imagining something long and flowing, and "ladylike." And is thereby likely to be of little to no help to her in her search. ]
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Well, if you're going to insist that hard then... thank you. That's very kind of you.
[ She musters a more genuine smile because it's more than what most people would do. Chivarly is indeed a dying art and all. ]
I wish I had something to offer in return to keep you warm, but if I come across more towels, you get first pick, okay?
[ It's the least she could do for him at this point. As for her skirt- ]
And it's short and black. Something easy to move around in battle. Do you also... fight?
[ She's not sure what to assume by the jacket. It looks like something a storybook pirate would wear. ]
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A most worthy exchange. You have yourself a deal.
[ (He says that so matter-of-factly it's difficult to tell... he is kidding...) ...Anyway. A short skirt, is it? Diluc is now imagining something with a knee-length hem and a voluminous twirl, like what Klee or Barbara might wear... ]
You're a warrior, I see. [ He may not have anticipated it, but it isn't a surprise, either. Where he's from, men and women, and even children wielded weapons and Visions. There's no single standard with which to quantify strength. ] As for myself... it depends on whom you ask.
[ He does fight, but nobody is supposed to know about it... It's not that he's inherently distrustful of her (she seems an honest enough soul), only that secrecy is a difficult habit to break.
He's distracted from the question anyhow as his eyes wander to an unclaimed pile of clothing left on one of the benches, a number of folded pieces of black fabric in it. After divvying up the lot for a quick inspection, he picks up one of the garments—to soon discover it is not a skirt at all, but someone's silky black chemise.
He clears his throat, and hastily sets the garment aside. ]
...We'd best work quickly, lest we find ourselves in a grave misunderstanding.
[ He's keenly aware how this might look to the random passerby. ]
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Instead, she focuses on the topic easier to address, her eyes shifting a little self-consciously to the ground. ]
Bartender actually. I do a bit of martial arts in my free time.
[ Which is certainly quite the understatement, but she's not about to reveal to him that she moonlights as an environmental terrorist. Besides, it doesn't seem as he feels like being all that forthright about his own profession either. Kindred spirits, one may think.
Maybe that's what ultimately gets her to relax a little more around him, nodding at his insistence. ]
I'll tell you more about it once we're both dressed. Maybe over drinks?
[ The sauna dried her out, and running amuck hadn't done anything to alleviate her thirst. She feels like she could down a whole cooler full of water at this point. ]
I'm Tifa by the way. I'd offer a hand, but... we can save that for later, too.
[ Her chin lowers, gesturing awkwardly to their present state. Best not to try and cross the invisible boundary she's stubbornly holding between them. ]
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...I'd like that. [ There's that amused huff again, another sliver of a smile. ]
Perhaps you'd be generous enough to exchange a recipe with me. I work at a tavern myself, on occasion.
[ What are the odds? As for that handshake, he nods in agreement—later is just fine, and he'll keep picking through these garments in the meanwhile. ]
Diluc.
[ As soon as he's given his name, his attention narrows on a familiar pattern. Some quick rummaging nets him his shirt and trousers (etc.), and his expression slackens slightly with relief. Good thing they hadn't been allocated to another arrival. ]
...Any luck with yours? [ He glances over curiously at her side of things, but quickly looks away again. ]
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Her eyes narrow a little. ]
I hate to cut these introductions short, but I have to take care of something first.
[ She moves quick, crossing the distance in seconds flat. Her leg then flicks out to sweep the robot off its feet before it can run. Once it's on its back, she levels it with an unhappy stare. ]
So you're the one sneaking off with my clothes. Did someone send you to steal them from me? It'll be better for you if you fess up right now.
[ The robot just makes a comment along the lines of "step on me more," which does nothing to really quell her ire. ]
This one must have a few circuits loose. Can you hold it down while I undress it?
bless and ty for carrying this entire thread evy
No need to ask.
[ Being a claymore user, he's used to hefting around slabs of metal, so holding down the machine poses little problem. —Naturally, there isn't just one of them. Another attendant rolls up to join in on the commotion, trying to make off with Diluc's reacquired clothes while he's momentarily distracted.
With a displeased grunt, he pushes it away with a foot. The movement renders the towel around his waist precariously loose. ]
If you decide to do more than undress it, I'll not say a word.
[ He's of a mind to straight up send these pests to the scrap heap, though he supposes the best course of action is to just grab their clothes and get the hell out of here. ]
oh you, you bridal-carried me too;
I'll be fine with just being able to walk out of here in something more than a towel, although... they are pretty feisty.
[ She grits her teeth a bit as she frees her top and skirt before paling at the sight of her nice underwear on its robot legs. Did they have to go that far?! Oh, she's going to have to wash all of this again, isn't she? ]
What do you even need to cover up?
[ Not that she expects the robot to answer. She's just exasperated, and the fact that they're going after Diluc's garments once more is icing on the shit-cake. She manages a glance over her shoulder after racing to claim her panties and hide them completely out of sight. That's another embarrassment she can live without. ]
How are you holding out, Diluc?
/////!!!
Diluc awkwardly clears his throat, fighting the weird pinch in his gut. He is not a child, and it isn't a big deal, just an errant scrap of fabric. (...He may or may not unintentionally conjure the memory of it at a later time...)
For now, he has far more pressing matters, like wrestling his clothes back from metallic menace #2. Which he does, with an exasperated noise that almost resembles a growl.
Spoken in monotone, ] Couldn't be better.
[ Outfit finally pried free, he gives the robot a hearty shove, sending it colliding into the other in a resounding clang of hard plating. ]
Let us take our leave, quickly.
[ Now for the timed escape portion of this stage!!! ]
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