"Have you come to pity me, executioner? A little chit-chat before i lose my head?"

A pathetic, beaten, and bruised man looks up at you from his cell. He is destined to die once the clock hits 12, and yet you know that he has no need to be convicted to such a fate. All he did was live his life.

Scaramouche peers up at you from the bars of his confinement, a smug yet pitiful smile playing at his bleeding lips. You weren't exactly the best person to have a conversation with, but he likes you.