Tidal | Neuvillette

XXVII

"It's fine! It's probably just... the postman..!"

At midnight? Yeah, no.

With a deep breath, y/n pulls open the door, her eyes widening in surprise, her breath quickening slightly... anxiety taking over....

As she comes face to face with someone she didn't predict to see this evening.

"Miss me?"

Her breath catches in her throat, her mind reeling with a whirlwind of emotions. Surprise, confusion, and a twinge of apprehension flicker across her features as she takes in his unexpected presence at her doorstep. "W-what..."

"Tartaglia," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, her heart hammering in her chest. She struggles to find the right words, unsure of what to make of this sudden encounter. Shit.

Tartaglia offers her a lopsided grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leans casually against the doorframe. "Well, well, well, what's got you all red?" he says, his tone playful yet tinged with an undercurrent of something deeper. "Ohhh right, that chief and you, eh?"

Caught off guard by his presence, she fumbles for a response, her mind racing to make sense of the situation. But before she can gather her thoughts, Tartaglia speaks again, his words cutting through the tense silence. "Why the fuck are you here?"

"I couldn't resist the temptation to see you," he admits, his gaze unwavering as he meets her eyes. "I hope I'm not intruding..."

"...no...no. Get out of here."

"That's not polite guest etiquette."

"Do I look like a give two shits? I hate you."

"Harsh! I was always with you in childhood."

"And now I'd rather eat shards of glass than be in the same room as you."

"You're so pretty. Such a shame—"

"—sorry, y/n, it's my duty to be a bitch."

Y/n's eyes widen in alarm as she registers the sudden shift in Tartaglia's demeanor. Before she can react, his hand shoots out, moving with lightning speed as he delivers a sharp nip to her upper arm. Before she can comprehend what's happening, Tartaglia swiftly injects her with a mysterious substance, his movements precise and calculated. How does he even manage to do these things...?

A wave of dizziness washes over y/n as the drug takes effect, her limbs growing heavy as her vision blurs and her thoughts become foggy. "What... what are you doing..."

She struggles to stay upright, but her strength ebbs away, leaving her vulnerable and disoriented. Tartaglia watches impassively as y/n slumps into his arms, unconsciousness claiming her once more.

"No- what are you-" With a cold smirk, he bends down to retrieve her limp form, his intentions shrouded in darkness as he carries her away from the safety of her home.

"Relax. Now can you do something for me?"

Tartaglia's gaze pierces through the dimly lit room, fixed upon y/n with a calculated intensity. His expression betrays no hint of remorse as he gestures towards the vial of shimmering liquid clutched tightly in his hand.