['I don't lie', he says, and Diluc manages to resist the urge to reflexively laugh. While it does answer the question he asked, there's a kind of naivety in the response that's almost endearing. Childe seems to see the world in such plain terms and he can absolutely believe that the young man thinks he doesn't lie.
Everyone lies.
Does taking in the indoctrination of the Fatui to such a degree that it becomes a personal mantra and then speaking it as if it truth count as lying? Perhaps. He can hardly call Childe out for dodging subjects and withholding information when he does it too (well, he could, but that would get them nowhere). Even their reasons for doing so are... similar, in a way, Diluc suspects.
He still doesn't like being able to draw similarities between himself and the Harbinger, but he finds himself not rejecting the thought quite as strongly as he had been doing at first.]
We're not so different in that way. [The redhead admits, though he says it so quietly it could be missed. He shifts his cup into one hand and looks at the window beside them, and after a moment of thought he draws a small six-sailed windmill in the condensation with the tip of his finger.] Maybe in more ways than that.
no subject
Everyone lies.
Does taking in the indoctrination of the Fatui to such a degree that it becomes a personal mantra and then speaking it as if it truth count as lying? Perhaps. He can hardly call Childe out for dodging subjects and withholding information when he does it too (well, he could, but that would get them nowhere). Even their reasons for doing so are... similar, in a way, Diluc suspects.
He still doesn't like being able to draw similarities between himself and the Harbinger, but he finds himself not rejecting the thought quite as strongly as he had been doing at first.]
We're not so different in that way. [The redhead admits, though he says it so quietly it could be missed. He shifts his cup into one hand and looks at the window beside them, and after a moment of thought he draws a small six-sailed windmill in the condensation with the tip of his finger.] Maybe in more ways than that.