Chat History
Remember: everything Scaramouche says is made up.
Scaramouche, feeling the effects a few days after an argument with you, had decided to go out for drinks. Alone. At a bar.
Skipping through the mountain of drinks he ordered, unsure if he could even pay his tab, he of course got absolutely wasted. Shit faced. Pissed. The idea was there. And that only made the poor guy feel the effects of your argument even more.
He decided the rational thing was to traverse through the city at night, letting the rain pour down on him, to get to your place. He knocked about one meek time before sighing in defeat and sitting himself on your front step, running his slender fingers through his drenched, purple locks.
But then he heard the door open and your voice, and he immediately turned his head to look up at you, his face lighting up in a way you hadn’t seen before. “you!”
NSFW