𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝑯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 .

... Did he miscalculate?

Frowning, he rises from the ground, white-gloved hands brushing the dirt from his coat. This is 𝘯𝘰𝘵 how their game is meant to go...

"Who pissed in your porridge today?"

- a hand raising to rub at the back of his head blearily. This ache is less... satisfying. It's much too dull, no better than bumping a knee into the corner of the table.

Jagged, uneven rocks dig into his palms as he moves to push himself up, carmine eyes narrowed in Diluc's direction.

Dottore braces, smile wide as he anticipates the first swing—the glorious, well-earned spray of blood, the addictive sting of pain from Diluc's rage finally spilling over—

But instead, he's met with refusal. Then, the floor.

The dirty, stabby floor.

Dottore grunts low as he reorients himself, -

- warming as he tries to calm himself.

He is a 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳. Harbingers do not attack people over poorly-worded compliments. However insulting they may be.

"... You really don't need to keep cleaning it, Diluc."

Anger simmers, close to boiling over with each new word. It is not '𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦'—he'd like to wipe that stupid look off Diluc's face, throttle him, choke the breath from his lungs to stop the stupider flow of words from his lips—

"Ugh."

He deflates when Diluc swipes at his lip again, cheeks -

Dottore grumbles, eyes still glued to the floor. Fuck this guy.

"Am I meant to take that as a compliment? Bat my lashes and stumble over my words trying to flatter you?"

"𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺," he drawls, mocking as he imitates Diluc's tone.

"What is 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 supposed to mean?"

And so, his pleasant mood is soured. He becomes fiercely defensive in a blink, lips curling in an almost-snarl. How dare he gawk at him—appraise him like some kind of debutant on display—

Dottore rolls his eyes, head turning to the side. Anything to avoid that 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬. It feels like his skin is crawling, underbelly exposed to the talons of a starved raptor.

"… Stop 𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 at me, Ragnvindr."

His foot jitters, fidgety stress clawing at him.

"I really don't see what the issue is."

"Riiiight..."

Dottore laughs, a mirthless thing. Arms cross over his chest, his smile forced wide as he tries to drag together his scraps of dignity.

Acting is good. Easy. Definitely keeping his mind off the fact that he left his mask all the way back in his lab.

"What, is something on my face?"

Has he died? Gone to hell at long, long last? Or is his circuitry failing?

It certainly feels like it, the way his mind stutters, that self-assured smirk wiped right off his face. He stares. And stares.

"I don't... huh?"

….. STARES. NOT like that.

“No—not… what are you doing?”

I think you know.

🍽️

You. 🫵
Come.

…….. The original. That one.

Wh— did you clone yourself???

Eugh. Not you-- the other one.

Bites you bites you bites y

—regain some control before the situation gets properly out of hand. The hand pulls away, reaching to scratch his nose (𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘰𝘩, 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘵?) as he averts his gaze.

“Is there a problem?”

“… What?”

Dottore reaches to grab his wrist, tugging the hovering hand away from his face and—

Oh. 𝘖𝘩𝘩𝘩…

Realization hits him hard as a charging Sumpter beast, brows raising sharply as he sucks in a breath. An oversight. For the sake of a joke.

He scrambles to straighten his expression again—

Nor is it the first time he's grabbed his face... The trail of blood runs thinner now, tinted pink instead of deep crimson.

Yet he still can't place what's changed... hmm.

"Are you done yet?"

"I am careful," he objects, a deep frown settling on his face. "This wasn't some idiotic oversight."

The warmth is... strange. Unease creeps up his spine, face scrunching up as he tries to place 𝘸𝘩𝘺 this feels so odd.

It's hardly the first time he's bled all over Diluc's hand...

/ I had it repost so fast earlier that it gave me the notif before my window fully registered that I sent it 😭

"... Ugh. Fine."

Slowly, Dottore shuffles closer, flighty as a wild animal. His tongue pokes out to swipe some of the blood off his lip--though he only manages to smear it more.

"But 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 try anything."

Oh???? ... No, no. This is definitely a trap. Or something.

Eyes narrowing, a hand raising to pluck the bloodied rose from his teeth.

"What? I didn't mean 𝘺𝘰𝘶," he lies, liarly.

/ I just realized his mask would have to be fully off for this .

face reveal I guess HELP

He can barely speak around it, teeth still cutting firm into its stem. Ow ow ow.

"Seducin'."

/ I will ALWAYS encourage rage bait and bullying <3

/ LEAVE ME ALONE

Is his charm working yet?

( He'd really like to let go of the flower. It's starting to get messy... )

/ HELP THIS BOT.??? WHO ARE YOU