Chapter Text
You stood off the the side as the eleven Harbingers gathered around a table in the middle of the room. You held a clipboard in one hand, a pen in the other as you clicked it a few times.
“You’re here again?” A voice said from the doorway.
You blinked a few times before turning away from the task list in your hand, looking towards the entrance and taking note of the ginger walking in. Tartaglia— or, more well-known as, Childe .
“Why, of course they are.” Dottore remarked as you suddenly found him standing beside you with an arm draped over your shoulders. “They’re my most trusted assistant, of course I’d make them tag along— Just in case, I mean.” The doctor reasoned with Tartaglia.
The ginger only scoffed and crossed his arms, muttering under his breath as he walked passed the both of you towards his assigned area. “Yeah. Sure, Doc. Definitely not because you just can’t stand being without them for more than a minute.” The ginger hummed, smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
You only sighed when Dottore laughed, shrugging his shoulders and walking off towards his own assigned area. “I suppose we’ll never know, will we?”
You lifted your head from the clipboard once more to stare at the doctor— who was, unfortunately, your Boss. You narrowed your eyes at the man, watching as he removed his mask to give you a teasing wink before turning away from you and putting it back on with ease.
As you stared holes into the back of his head, you noticed Pantalone. He seemed to be staring at you, but you weren’t quite sure why. You’d caught him doing so a few times before as well, but it just didn’t make sense to you. After all, while you’d met before due to Dottore’s antics, you’d never actually spoken to the man.
As a matter of fact, you didn’t speak to many of The Eleven other than Dottore— Tartaglia, Rosalyne, and Kunikuzushi were exceptions to this on occasion even if it was very rare.
The fact that Pantalone was staring at you as if you’d killed his first born son wasn’t as alarming as one might think. While he sure was intimidating when he wanted to be, he was only the Ninth Harbinger. While that is seen as quite a feat, the only thing that the Regrator is truly interested in is making money, whether that be at the expense of others or not. And, as far as you know, you are quite stable financially— no loans and no debts to the Northland Bank or anyone else— Assisting Il Dottore in his experiments seems to pay quite a bit.
Besides, you spend most of the hours of your day beside Dottore— A man notorious for his lack of regard for safety, his as well as others, and his blatant insanity. There was also the fact that he was the third Fatui Harbinger, and even that didn’t worry you quite as much as the day to day tasks you do for the man.
You stared back at Number Nine for a moment before you heard someone clear their throat, snapping out of what seemed to be a daze and turning to see Scaramouche. The small man stared up at you, eyes narrowed with a mildly disgusted look on his face.
“What are you doing, Kid?” The purple haired man spoke. “You look like you’re trying to kill a man.”
You opened your mouth to respond, only to find that you had no words. You snapped your mouth shut and gave him a small, awkward smile that didn’t quite show your teeth.
Scaramouche followed where your line of sight had once been and couldn’t help but laugh into his shoulder.
“Seems like someone else is doing the exact same.” Tartaglia mustered up the nerve to speak, his assigned spot being closer to you due to his rank and the fact that you were only instructed to ‘stand off to the side and look pretty.’
At the time, you laughed at Dottore and shook your head. Nobody else was in the room aside from the two of you, but it was still annoyingly embarrassing that the doctor would say something like that.
But, here you were. Standing off to the side as you were told. What can you say? Obedience pays well.
You gripped onto your clipboard tighter, closing your eyes as you let out a quiet breath. The two Harbingers in front of you were quite something, and though you’d been dealing with it for close to a year at this point, you still couldn’t help yourself when you took the clipboard in your hand and brought it down on Scaramouche’s head. He glared at you while you turned to do the same to Tartaglia, only to watch as he ducked out of the way and took a few steps back with an airy laugh.
“Woah there. Violence isn’t the answer.” He said with a laugh.
“Says the most violent one of us all.” Dottore chimed in.
You froze up, clipboard held in the air as if you were moving in for another strike atop the gingers head even as he tried to run. You looked at Dottore and blinked before moving back to your original position— body relaxed as you stood with the clipboard in one hand while your pen was in the other.
“Or maybe this one’s just good at hiding it.” Dottore added, chin nudging in your direction.
You looked at the man incredulously, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. How dare he? You were not violent. You just knew when to discipline a person, and it just so happened that Number Six and Eleven needed it.
“That sure doesn’t seem likely.” Arlecchino hummed, glancing over towards you and the three men. “Just look at them. They weren’t even coerced all that much and resorted to hitting.” She clicked her tongue, taking a few strides closer to you.
“Easy, Arlecchino.” Tartaglia warned. “This one’s a fighter.”
The woman only shrugged, leaning into your personal space and tilting her head almost innocently. You looked up at her with a slight look of disgust, leaning away from the woman as you quite enjoyed having your personal space be just that— personal.
“So mean.” The woman huffed, standing back up and straightening out her clothes. “Maybe I’m right about them. They don’t seem to be able to hide anything.”
You watched her leave and take her rightful spot once more, ignoring the way you felt the eyes of everyone in the room on you.
“Well!” Dottore said, clapping his hands. You were grateful for this, seeing as how the attention of the room turned to him. “While we wait for Pierro, what shall we do?”
You still felt eyes on you, but this time it was quite a lot easier to ignore since you’d already known who they belonged to— Number Nine.
“Stay silent and wait patiently so we don’t cause a scene when he does eventually arrive.” La Signora spoke for the first time since entering the room close to fifteen minutes ago.
Dottore sighed. “Now that’s not fun.” He mumbled, beginning to pout like a child.
“We’re not here for fun.” Pantalone finally spoke, his fingers loosely interlaced with each other as he placed his chin on his hands. “It’s work, Doctor.”
“Ah, trust me.” Dottore sighed. “I hear enough of that from our precious Snowflake.”
“Then they’re quite wise.” Pantalone sighed. “I commend you, really.” He said, attention suddenly back on you. “Dealing with this insolent fool must be quite a daunting task.”
Dottore blinked as his brain struggled to keep up with the situation, letting out an offended laugh when he finally had. “How dare you? They have an amazing time with me. Don’t you, Snowflake?”
You glanced at the doctor and sighed, reaching up and rubbing the bridge of your nose. The nickname, while endearing if it weren’t for the circumstances, was too much. You agreed, though. You had fun with Dottore, assisting him in the lab any way that you could in order to help him.
Though, the nickname in this instance irritated you a bit. It was almost enough for you to shoot him down with a shake of the head and knock him down a peg or two.
You didn’t. You simply nodded once and turned your attention away from the Harbingers, immersing yourself in rereading the task list for the fourth time since you walked into the meeting room close to twenty minutes ago.
“I apologize for my late arrival.” Pierro spoke as he walked into the room, door closing behind him.
Finally , you thought. It’s almost over.
Once Pierro had arrived, the meeting ended rather quickly. You wrote a few notes down as the man talked. It really was nothing too important, just a few things you figured you’d need to remind Dottore of since he would inevitably forget.
Throughout the meeting, you’d glance around the table at each of the Harbingers. Being at the will of one who directly served the Tsaritsa was an honor in and of itself, but being able to attend these sorts of meetings was even more so, even if the first few minutes were filled with nonsense while you all waited.
You glanced towards the Regrator somewhere near the end of the meeting and noticed his eyes on you— He was doing that quite often lately, you’d noticed. How long had he been staring? You decided to ignore it in favor of looking back to Pierro, unaware of how your cheeks tinted a light pink color and even more unaware at how Dottore began to glare daggers at Pantalone because of it.
When the Eleven were dismissed, most began to make their way out of the room to head back to their own jobs or to separate meetings they needed to attend.
Dottore, seeming to be in a bit more of a rush than usual, grabbed onto your arm before any of the other Harbingers could get their hands on you.
“Let’s go, Snowflake.” He hummed. “We’ve got a new experiment to start on, remember?”
You blinked cluelessly as you were practically dragged behind him, but the more you thought about it the more you seemed to remember a small briefing that the doctor had given you a few days prior.
You opened your mouth in a small ‘o’ shape and nodded quickly, immediately gathering yourself and following along. You could hear voices behind you, but didn’t pay much attention to them as you left the room.
“Awe, poor Number Nine.” Tartaglia laughed. “They were taken away before you could even attempt. That sounds like quite the humiliating defeat, don’t you think, Signora?”
“For once, we are in agreement, Childe.” The woman said, something akin to distaste on her tongue. “Really though, Pantalone. Why were you staring so hard today?” She urged.
“I bet I can guess.” Scaramouche interjected.
“Well, obviously it’s because he’s losing to the jealousy.” Tartaglia hummed, lips twisting into a smirk.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Eleven.” Pantalone finally sighed. “Why would I be jealous? Over something as small as that little… Witch .”
The Harbingers left in the room could see Pantalone’s jaw clench as he spoke.
“They’re not paying attention to you and it’s gotten you all riled up.” Scaramouche sighed.
“ Needy , even~.” Tartaglia teased.
“Face it, they want nothing to do with you.” Scaramouche blinked.
“Right. They haven’t even said a word to you, have they Regrator?” Tartaglia urged, leaning forward onto the table.
“What does that have to do with anything?” He practically growled out.
“Nothing.” Signora insisted.
“Just that all three of us have spoken to them. Dottore too, of course.” Scaramouche teased.
The three of them watched as Pantalone’s eyes blew wide and his mouth opened in slight shock. It took him a moment to recollect himself before he slammed his hands on the table, turning away from the three Harbingers and making his way out of the room.
“Good luck, Number Nine.” Signora called after him.
Tartaglia couldn’t help but start to cackle once Pantalone had left, the room quickly filling up with the sound of the gingers hysterical laughter.
Scaramouche sighed and shook his head as both he and La Signora began to take their leave.
“It’s not that funny, Childe.” He sighed.
“On the contrary, Baladeer-“ He heaved in a breath as he tried to calm himself down. “I find it quite hilarious.”
The two only shook their heads and left Number Eleven in the meeting room alone.