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Rex Lapis falls from the sky.
Pantalone's first thought is, good riddance.
His next thought is, shit, I'm the prime suspect, aren't I?
The shocked audience is already backing away from him, leaving a conspicuous ring of inhibition marking his presence. The Millelith swarm, spears at the ready. Ningguang turns furious eyes in his direction.
"I heard you were detained by the Qixing," Hu Tao says to him, legs kicked over her own desk as she twirls a pen, eyes twinkling at him from under her hat. "They didn't arrest you?"
"I was found innocent, despite their best efforts," Pantalone snarks back at her, and she sticks her tongue out at him. "I am just an ordinary, humble, visionless banker, after all. How could I possibly have the power to kill a god?"
She laughs at him, the capricious Master Hu. Pantalone respects her, although he imagines she could stand to be more ambitious - young girl that she is, the head of a generational legacy with her… unorthodox business practices.
The Fatui do not have much dealings with Funeral Parlours. Pantalone is not a fighter and the Fatui are not mindless murderers. Had they sent Tartaglia in his stead, perhaps that child would have gotten to learn of Wangsheng Funeral Parlour in a more organic manner. As it stood, Pantalone had little use to deal with them, and the only reason he dropped by was to find…
"Zhongli!"
The man himself is browsing the wares of merchants by the dock, humming and hawing over spending money he doesn't have. Pantalone hooks an arm around him and drags him away before he sends another bill to the Northland Bank.
From behind Zhongli's back, the merchant gives him a dirty look. Pantalone sneers at him.
"Ah, hello," Zhongli greets, falling into step by Pantalone’s side. "I heard you were detained by the Qixing."
"Just a minor inconvenience," Pantalone waves his worry away with a brush to his fringe. "They cannot charge me without any evidence. I relished the pain in that bi - Yelan's eyes as she had to let me go."
"I'm glad they did," Zhongli says, free hand coming to pat Pantalone's fingers that have been tucked into his forearm. "I put in a good word for you, after all."
Pantalone is delighted and he’s not sure if he fails to hide it. It’s always great to have a local in your corner (barring the fact that he himself is one), better still to have a distinguished name such as the esteemed consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour. “You did?!"
(Privately, Pantalone enthuses that Zhongli had chosen to remain by his side. It would have been strategic for him to cut Pantalone off at this juncture - a socially acceptable reason to stop associating with the Fatui, a smart business decision that Pantalone isn’t entirely sure he would blame Zhongli for if the man had chosen that route. On the contrary, Zhongli being seen publicly with Pantalone may even taint his reputation. The uncharacteristically altruistic part of Pantalone thinks about preventively protecting Zhongli from the slander, and separating himself from the man. The logical part of him posits that Pantalone is unlikely to do too much damage to Zhongli’s reputation. And the strange, fluttery, prideful part of him preens at the thought of parading Zhongli around, to show the public who Zhongli had chosen to stand beside.)
"I was approached for a character testimony, yes," Zhongli says. He has a furtive little smile on his face.
"Brilliant," Pantalone says. He wished he was there for that scene, too. "Come, I'll treat you to a good meal. A celebration for my freedom."
Zhongli considers that for a beat, then resumes pace by him. "I would advise expressing such auspicious sentiments during this time," he warns. "Most people are unlike yourself and not receptive to an idea of a celebration after what happens."
Pantalone rolls his eyes. "Come on, fellow Rex Lapis dissenter. Surely you're not too torn up about him falling from the sky."
"Just because I acknowledge that Rex Lapis is not all-knowing or glorified like history often depicts him to be so, it does not mean that I do not understand what he means to the hearts of the people."
"Yeah, yeah," Pantalone yawns.
Zhongli's voice drops lower. "But, I suppose you are right." It sends shivers up Pantalone's spine. "I, personally, am interested in how this… unprecedented event will go on to influence the progress of Liyue."
Pantalone does not giggle. "Whatever you were looking at at the store just now. I'll buy it for you."
"Ah, you're mistaken," Zhongli says. "I was not pursuing my own personal purchases. In fact, I was looking for suitable artifacts to procure for the Rite of Parting."
This time, it's Pantalone who stops short in his tracks. "Pardon?"
"The Rite of Parting," Zhongli repeats. "I suppose, in layman terms, you can simply refer to it as Rex Lapis's funeral."
"Oh." That makes perfect sense. Of course, the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour will carry out funeral rites, and their most esteemed and knowledgeable consultant will be entrusted with it.
"Oh?" Zhongli prompts.
"Oh!" Pantalone says brightly. "A pay day."
Zhongli looks amused. "I suppose the Qixing did offer a large sum of money for the planning of the funeral rites," he muses.
"Remember to squirrel in miscellaneous work expense costs," Pantalone says, patting his hand. "Collect those as compensation for your work."
Zhongli squints at him. "That is fraud, and it goes against the Qixing's employment contract-"
“What the Qixing doesn’t know won’t hurt them,” Pantalone says.
The strange outworlder - and her little pixie - approach him the next day.
“You’re that Fatuus who was accused of killing Rex Lapis.”
“Allegedly,” Pantalone looked at them over the rim of his glasses. She - Lumine - folded her arms to stare impassively back at him. Pantalone sniffs. “What do you want?”
Lumine says, “we don’t believe that you didn’t have a hand in it. We know what your colleague did to Barbatos in Mondstadt.”
“And so what?” Pantalone says. “You may report your suspicions to the Millelith if you wish, but Liyue is a nation of the law. You must have heard that I was detained and then rightfully released due to a lack of evidence. Do you think you can cast judgment above the law?”
“You!” The little pixie seethes. Lumine scrutinizes him with a sharp gaze, considering.
“If you really are innocent, we’ll find the real culprit,” she says. “Come on, Paimon.”
The pixie hovers after her. “Wait for me! Where are we going?”
Pantalone is curious too. The men he dispatched to follow her, subsequently returned with their tails tucked between their legs.
“She gained the favor of one of the adepti! That deer adeptus granted her a blessing to chase us down the mountain!”
Pantalone grabs Zhongli for a lunch (dropping off an accompanying cheque to Hu Tao, who flips him the middle finger - her stamp of approval.) “What can you tell me about… the deer shaped adeptus in Qingyun peak?”
Zhongli sipped his tea curiously. “Do you have business with Moon Carver?”
“My men ran into him while on a… stroll.”
“The adepti are quite elusive. There are some more accustomed to living amongst the people, like Miss Ganyu of the Qixing… but Moon Carver is one of the adepti who prefer seclusion out in the mountains. Quite a rare treat for your men to have seen him about.”
They had returned with nothing else to show for their efforts, except for a long invoice from Bubu Pharmacy. They might as well have not come back at all, in Pantalone’s humble opinion. “How lucky,” he says.
Zhongli smiles at him. “How lucky indeed. Were you disappointed you missed out on that opportunity?”
“Pah! Not at all!” Pantalone says. “I have no interest in Adepti. You know that about me, Zhongli.”
“I know you have no interest in the Archons,” Zhongli points out, “but that does not equate similar sentiments regarding their followers. As I recall, you have had quite a good impression of Miss Ganyu.”
Pantalone reluctantly agrees. “I suppose. But my admiration of the Secretary has nothing to do with her divine status, but instead her work ethic.” And Pantalone would consider it magnanimous of himself to look past her adepti status to consider her contributions. After all, one could easily attribute her position to nepotism… but Pantalone supposes it has been 3000 years since she rose to the occasion, and in that time she has proven herself indispensable to the economy. “Given the adepti’s tendency to hole themselves up in their abodes, dare I say I find her a capable worker not because of her adeptus status, but in spite of it.”
Zhongli lets out a bark of laughter. “Pantalone, I really enjoy hearing you speak.”
It’s a weird-sounding compliment that would border on an insult if it had been anyone else who said it, but Zhongli is a weird man, and Pantalone feels the urge to be bashful about it.
“Thank you,” Pantalone says. “I like hearing you speak. Tell me about the Rite of Parting. How have the preparations been going?”
Zhongli laughs, and tells him. Lumine has returned from her escapade in the mountains, and she must have come empty-handed with any proof of Pantalone’s guilt, otherwise he’d have been hauled off to the Millelith again. Now she is choosing to pay her respects to a foreign god.
“I am meeting her later today,” Zhongli says. “Would you like to come with?”
“My schedule is full,” Pantalone apologizes, “and I’m afraid Miss Lumine and I had gotten off on the wrong foot on our first meeting. I shan’t intrude.”
“What a shame,” Zhongli makes a big deal of sighing with his dramatics.
It’s almost a wonder how Pantalone ever assumed he was one of those arrogant, stuffy, old-fashioned elders. Zhongli had certainly presented himself as the traditional religious sort when they first met on the Pearl Gallery - his clothes embroidered with dragon patterned scales, his manner of speaking with the formal flourish of old tongue.
(And then Zhongli had, in a quick breath, denied that Rex Lapis was omniscient, refuted a claim about the creation of mora with no sources other than his own indignance, and announced to the table at large that he had misplaced his wallet.
Pantalone befriended him immediately.
“A funeral parlour!” He had said loudly, delighted, to the irritated looks of the other guests. He slung an arm over Zhongli’s shoulder in a fashion more suited for the rowdiness of his Fatui underlings. Perhaps it was because he was also inebriated. “How have you been enjoying work?”
Zhongli had been silent for a long time. He then said, “Truthfully, I began this career several years ago under Master Hu’s supervision, and I have seen many come and go. Recently, I’ve begun to wonder what a funeral for Rex Lapis would look like.”
Pantalone, pleasantly warm with baijiu swirling in his fingers and the cold ocean breeze, had leaned closer so he could protect the space between them like they had a million untold secrets. He said, “I want to know more about you.” Zhongli’s laugh was warm like honey.)
In the middle of his office, Pantalone flipped through the reports from his men, about the progress of the adeptal sigils and the impending summoning of Osial.
Pantalone hadn’t killed Rex Lapis, that was true, but Pantalone knew that was also because Rex Lapis wasn’t dead. Pantalone was going to force his hand in a deal he could never forget.
…There was never going to be a good ending between him and Zhongli. Pantalone could pretend that Zhongli would come to him after the Rite of Parting and share a cup of baijiu with him, as if Pantalone never tried to drown his nation, or lose whatever faith that an ordinary funeral parlour consultant must have put into him in order to vouch for him to the Qixing.
(Pantalone thought that maybe he could have taken Zhongli with him when they left Liyue. It was such a shame, he had thought, for a man like Zhongli who dared to think the things he thought, to remain shackled to the strict demands of Liyue’s traditionalist order. Zhongli was so contrary Pantalone could imagine to put Zhongli in front of the dreary backdrop of Liyue Harbour. If only he had known!)
In the end, all that their relationship hinged on, were just deception and lies. (An eye for an eye.)
Signora does not glance back at him when she leaves, but Pantalone gets the distinct feeling that she’s laughing at him. The embarrassment feels like nothing against the string of betrayal, and the cause is still standing here looking at him.
Lumine and Paimon leave quickly. Pantalone whirls on Zhongli - no, Rex Lapis.
"You are such a hypocrite!" Pantalone yells. "You know I hate Rex Lapis! And yet you cheated me of my-"
…Trust? Comradeship? Or Tsaritsa forbid, affection? No.
No!
“Get out of my bank!”
Zhongli is frowning. Pantalone is never believing anything he says again. “May I explain myself?”
“You may not.”
Zhongli does not listen to him. Of course he doesn’t. He’s god and Pantalone is just Pantalone. He’s only ever had the divine’s attention as far as he was useful. The Tsaritsa and Rex Lapis traded him like a pawn.
Rex Lapis begins speaking. “I had never meant to deceive you like this. When the Tsaritsa offered me this deal, I considered the candidates that could do justice to this contract. You were the best option she presented me with. But-”
The best. From Rex Lapis’s own lips.
And it all feels shallow to his ears. No, he knows it is shallow. The nature of his ambitions have never bothered him before, but-.
"Pantalone," Zhongli says, hand coming up to meet his.
Pantalone slaps it away. "Don't touch me!"
Zhongli’s arm falls away. He looks at Pantalone like he’s the victim, like he hadn’t played Pantalone for a fool for months. Here Pantalone thought he had found kinship in a fellow skeptic, but then here was this fraud humble-bragging about his own achievements, likely commiserating with his fellow adepti about Pantalone’s naivety.
The terrible weather is sticky, the streets are crowded, the air is heated with the rowdiness of a post-festival adrenaline. Osial has been defeated, Rex Lapis has been sent off, the sky spins on its axis, and Pantalone is alone.
He doesn’t know if he can be upset - truly upset with Zhongli Morax Rex Lapis. After all, Pantalone was lying too. And here they were, a lie for a lie, an equal exchange in the land of the contracts. What had he dared to call Rex Lapis? A hypocrite? He looks down at his reflection in the cup.
A waitress tops his flask up to the brim. “It’s strange to see you come by without mister Zhongli. A lover’s quarrel?”
"We were not lovers!" Pantalone snaps. His cup rattles by the slam of his palm. The waitress falters, and wordlessly tops up the rest of his drink before scurrying off. He shouldn't begrudge her, he knows that logically - she was trying to make small talk as part of her job.
Her words don't go down any less bitter than the burn of alcohol.
Lovers. What a joke.
“Pantalone?”
“What… are you… doing here.”
A hand brushes his hair. Pantalone draws away, annoyed, and Zhongli - Rex Lapis appears in his periphery. “How much did you drink?”
“None… of your business.”
“Come with me. I’ll make you some sobering tea.”
Pantalone does not want to go anywhere with this… this… cheat. He tries to say as much, but the words lose themselves in the haze of the night lanterns and the summer heat. Suddenly he’s shoulder-to-shoulder with Zhongli staggering down a moonlit cobblestone street, and then suddenly he’s in someone’s house, and Zhongli is trying to ease him into a chair, and-
Pantalone wants to… he wants to reach into his chest, and rip his divinity out with his teeth. They say the fastest way to a man’s heart is through the soft part of his neck, where the skin is thin enough that Pantalone can feel the warmth of his pulse under his tongue.
"Ah," Rex Lapis says, and his throat rumbles, "you are intoxicated-"
"Don't spout nonsense," Pantalone hisses. He is not intoxicated by anything - not alcohol, or the warmth of Zhongli's hands coming to rest by his hips, their fronts pressed together, hot flush between them.
Rex Lapis thrums like the body of the earth beneath him. He says, "no."
Pantalone has been rejected far too many times. The sting should have worn old by now.
It doesn't.
"I hate you."
Rex Lapis stays silent.
"Nothing to say?!" Pantalone wants to sink his teeth into his chest and pull out the gnosis with his tongue. "I hate you!"
Rex Lapis does not bleed. Pantalone tries until his mouth is sore and Rex Lapis’s neck remains infuriatingly unmarred, because Pantalone’s strength is a drop in the bucket, his influence doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of Rex Lapis’s life-
His jaw aches when Rex Lapis’s large hand comes to cradle it. He lifts Pantalone’s head up to meet his eyes. They’re bright amber, and his irises are shaped like diamonds. Pantalone feels foolish for having not put the pieces together. The world is mocking him.
A thumb comes to press at the swell of his puffy lip. It stings, and inexplicably Pantalone feels like crying. He does not cry. He has not cried in… in…
Rex Lapis tastes like hot, salty tears. He feels like grit and soil and bruised knuckles. The hand moves from his chin to his hair. Rex Lapis sighs into his mouth. “Go to sleep, Pantalone.”
Pantalone wakes up in a bed that’s not his, a cup of tea by the nightstand, and the other side of the bed is cold. It feels humiliating. (He wonders if he would have done anything different if he wasn't alone. He doesn't have an answer.) His head is pounding, so he drinks the tea, and almost spits it out onto his sheets. Bitter.
The first Fatuus he runs into on the street trips over their feet when they see him. “Lord Harbinger-”
“Don’t bother with the pleasantries,” Pantalone sighs, adjusting the robe over his shoulders. “I have a hangover. I want something to eat, and I want the next ship out of here.”
“Sir…?”
“I’m done making a fool out of myself for these archons,” Pantalone mutters, and ignores amber eyes burning a hole into the back of his head.
Good riddance.