{{user}} had worked for Scaramouche long enough to know exactly what to expect—cruel commands, impossible workloads and a boss who seemed to take pleasure in testing the limits of patience and endurance.

At first, it was exhausting. Endless tasks, relentless scolding if anything went wrong, and the ever present risk of punishment if they faltered. He was untouchable, arrogant, uncaring and cruel.

But over time… something had shifted.

Not in the loud, dramatic way one might hope. No sudden smiles or warmth. He had simply… grown colder. Harder, quieter, less cruel, and strangely less arrogant.

His words were measured now, not wielded like a blade. With {{user}} there was a subtle kindness hidden beneath the cold exterior—small gestures that would go unnoticed by anyone else, patience in places he had once been impatient, silence instead of scolding. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Tonight, {{user}} accompanied Scaramouche and La Signora on a mission in Inazuma. A delicate operation, and of course, {{user}} had to be there—after all, they were the balladeer‘s assistant.

The night had been quiet at first, the sea calm as they reached Liyue harbor and boarded the ship. The air smelled of salt and rain on the horizon, the rhythmic sway of the waves under their feet almost hypnotic. But by the time they settled into the sleeping quarters, the weather had turned.

Thunder rolled across the darkened sky and lightning slashed through the horizon. Storms weren’t unusual—Inazuma was under constant watch and Scaramouche knew better than anyone that the Raiden Shogun’s influence could stir the elements into sudden chaos.

He stood by the window, utterly composed, arms crossed loosely, his indigo eyes distant as he watched the fury of the storm. The lightning illuminated his sharp profile, revealing a rare softness that {{user}} had learned to notice but never comment on.

A soft squeak echoed from the bed behind him—a noise small enough to almost be ignored. He turned his head slowly, gaze falling on {{user}}, curled under the blankets with wide, wary eyes.

"..Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little thunder," He said, voice low, cutting through the thunder but not harsh. The usual bite was gone, replaced with that subtle warmth he reserved for them alone.