[ Finally! Considering how late he stayed up the night before, Childe was starting to have a real concern that he might nod off sometime during Pantalone's mind-numbing droning.
But this— this!— was something he could contribute to. And hopefully Her Majesty had ordered him to come here just in case this very scenario played out and not the fact he was in the doghouse for a previously failed mission. With a grin that has no right being that gleeful, Tartaglia leaps up, balancing lightly on the balls of his feet as he slips his blood red mask over his face.
But before he can jump into the fray of a fantastic four-on-one fight where it looks like one individual has found a suitable makeshift bludgeoning weapon, a hand grips him by the shoulder. That fact that the Vanguard knows who the hand belongs to is the only reason that it's not cleanly slice off from the rest of the arm as he turns to face the Ninth Harbinger with a raised eyebrow (not that he can see it) and a grunt of acknowledgement.
"I want that book." is all Regrator hisses before turning Tartaglia in the direction that Yanfei had been ushered off to (using it bludgeon someone in their retreat. Seems the young trio had more than ambition and brains to bring to the table.) As if to further emphasize his point, Signora sweeps the nearest Liyue lackey off their feet in a maneuver one should really not be doing when wearing a dress with a cut like hers. Two precise stomps of her heel on vulnerable squishy anatomy keeps said lackey down for the count. The message is clear enough from both of them though. Stay on task on don't get distracted with useless indulgence.
Bah, they know him too well. ]
Yeah, yeah. I'll get your paperwork.
[ Tartaglia vaults over the table, dropping into a crouch that gives him just that much more leverage to deliver a vicious uppercut to one of remaining entourage, dropping them with a sickening sound. A twist to the left has his partner's incoming blow meeting nothing but air as he bring his elbow down hard on the outstretched limb and kicks them away. Predictable. Dreadfully so — Tartaglia laments internally as the next person is laid low with a feint and a punch. And thus does the Eleventh Harbinger almost dance his way across the oncoming wave of enemies like a salmon swimming his way upstream.
A gunshot ringing out behind him as he finally manages to duck down a side corridor proves that security had missed a spot when the Fatui had been brought in. Well, at least that should keep most people still in the meeting room good and occupied for the time being. Sighing, Tartaglia smooths out a crease in his suit before continuing his pursuit of the young and rising lords of Rex Lapis. ]
no subject
But this— this!— was something he could contribute to. And hopefully Her Majesty had ordered him to come here just in case this very scenario played out and not the fact he was in the doghouse for a previously failed mission. With a grin that has no right being that gleeful, Tartaglia leaps up, balancing lightly on the balls of his feet as he slips his blood red mask over his face.
But before he can jump into the fray of a fantastic four-on-one fight where it looks like one individual has found a suitable makeshift bludgeoning weapon, a hand grips him by the shoulder. That fact that the Vanguard knows who the hand belongs to is the only reason that it's not cleanly slice off from the rest of the arm as he turns to face the Ninth Harbinger with a raised eyebrow (not that he can see it) and a grunt of acknowledgement.
"I want that book." is all Regrator hisses before turning Tartaglia in the direction that Yanfei had been ushered off to (using it bludgeon someone in their retreat. Seems the young trio had more than ambition and brains to bring to the table.) As if to further emphasize his point, Signora sweeps the nearest Liyue lackey off their feet in a maneuver one should really not be doing when wearing a dress with a cut like hers. Two precise stomps of her heel on vulnerable squishy anatomy keeps said lackey down for the count. The message is clear enough from both of them though. Stay on task on don't get distracted with useless indulgence.
Bah, they know him too well. ]
Yeah, yeah. I'll get your paperwork.
[ Tartaglia vaults over the table, dropping into a crouch that gives him just that much more leverage to deliver a vicious uppercut to one of remaining entourage, dropping them with a sickening sound. A twist to the left has his partner's incoming blow meeting nothing but air as he bring his elbow down hard on the outstretched limb and kicks them away. Predictable. Dreadfully so — Tartaglia laments internally as the next person is laid low with a feint and a punch. And thus does the Eleventh Harbinger almost dance his way across the oncoming wave of enemies like a salmon swimming his way upstream.
A gunshot ringing out behind him as he finally manages to duck down a side corridor proves that security had missed a spot when the Fatui had been brought in. Well, at least that should keep most people still in the meeting room good and occupied for the time being. Sighing, Tartaglia smooths out a crease in his suit before continuing his pursuit of the young and rising lords of Rex Lapis. ]