[The answer comes out quickly, dismissively, like an instinct. A verbal shove at a question his over-vigilant mind immediately flags up as prying. Diluc still doesn't like that he likes Childe, Fatui status aside, and it's that constant battle with something he will eventually have to either confront or make peace with that colours his interactions with the man now.
He presses his lips together, then loosely folds his arms and leans back against the bar. His bright hair spills against the nape of his neck as he looks down for a moment.]
I don't like how it makes me feel. That's all.
[Childe could read into that whatever he wished, and he'd probably be right in what he thought. Diluc doesn't like the way it dulls his senses, makes him clumsy. He needs to be sharp, alert, always ready. Alcohol is an indulgence he doesn't feel he's missing anything by avoiding.]
no subject
[The answer comes out quickly, dismissively, like an instinct. A verbal shove at a question his over-vigilant mind immediately flags up as prying. Diluc still doesn't like that he likes Childe, Fatui status aside, and it's that constant battle with something he will eventually have to either confront or make peace with that colours his interactions with the man now.
He presses his lips together, then loosely folds his arms and leans back against the bar. His bright hair spills against the nape of his neck as he looks down for a moment.]
I don't like how it makes me feel. That's all.
[Childe could read into that whatever he wished, and he'd probably be right in what he thought. Diluc doesn't like the way it dulls his senses, makes him clumsy. He needs to be sharp, alert, always ready. Alcohol is an indulgence he doesn't feel he's missing anything by avoiding.]