[ He already died a thousand times to embarrassment, what's one more instance? Tartaglia takes him at his word, smile unfolded like a fiend, relinquishing what basically amounts to blackmail material in good graces. Don't wound him too much now, he doesn't have a taste for vengeance yet. ]

Not out here.

[ Although Diluc was quick to spill the beans, Tartaglia's a lot more furtive about the matter, beckoning He Xuan off from the sun-speckled view and towards the interior of the ship. It's relatively cool wherever the darkness hits, striking at his back and his face. Silhouette half in shadow, he's purposefully inscrutable, walking too fast for it to be anything but deliberate.

Leading the way to the private suite, he's brokering no argument on the matter. Come on in. Soon as He Xuan has entreated himself to the room, Tartaglia shuts the door and relents to seat himself on the bed where the gift basket resides. ]

A grudge. We were strangers, but I riled him. No helping that. He loathes the Fatui, so by extension, he loathes me. [ Enlivening stuff, promised so much hostility and then some terrible demise at Diluc's hands? Like, okay then. ] To put it in simple terms, you might call me a "diplomat" for my country. That's how the Fatui function. I'd liken myself to a sword, if anything.

[ Only meant to be wielded for the Tsaritsa's will, no higher moral ground and amicability that vanishes when the goodwill does. Each and every fleeting chance to be more than a weapon is a beautiful one, but ultimately, this bloodlust never lets up. ]

.... I'm curious. What'd you do to earn Diluc's ire?