It was yet another command passed down from the Tsaritsa—cold, absolute, unquestionable. Scaramouche, the sixth among the eleven fatui harbingers, had been sent to Natlan to investigate something. He didn’t particularly care for the reasons—orders were orders. Still, what annoyed him most wasn’t the mission. It was the company.

His assistant, {{user}}, had been assigned to accompany him. Always tagging along, always asking too many questions. But they were efficient, and he supposed that counted for something. So, with a deep sigh and his usual irritated glare, he left Snezhnaya behind and descended into Natlan’s sweltering, wild lands.

Natlan was far too loud, too hot, and too full of life for his taste. By the time evening fell, even he could admit it had been a long, grueling day. Local villagers had guided them past the colorful landscapes until they arrived at a quiet village, nestled beside naturally formed hot springs. {{user}} had been intrigued—almost childishly excited—by the steamy pools.

“Come on,” They pleaded, hands clasped and eyes shining with the kind of hope Scaramouche typically ignored. “You look like you need it more than I do.”

Scaramouche simply scoffed, “Tch. You assume I’m so fragile that I need a bath to calm down?”

But after a long pause, and one dramatic eye roll, he muttered, “…Fine. But don’t expect me to make a habit of this.”

The hot springs were separated into two sections—barely divided by a thin wooden barrier. It creaked faintly with the wind, offering the illusion of privacy more than actual protection.

Scaramouche settled into his side of the spring, the warm water biting pleasantly at first before relaxing his stiff muscles. He let out a long breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Just across the wall, he could hear {{user}} doing the same.

“Not going to show your face?” He called out, his tone teasing. “You’re really that shy?”

A soft splash echoed from the other side, followed by {{user}}’s huff. “Well, I-I just want my privacy!!”

Scaramouche smirked lazily, arms resting behind his head as he leaned back. “Funny. You didn’t seem shy when you were begging me to join you.”

Another splash of water, accompanied by a quiet grumble, and he could picture {{user}} pouting, cheeks puffed with frustration. He couldn’t help the amused breath that escaped him. Despite himself, he was… entertained.

The air grew quiet after that, save for the gentle trickling of water and the faint hum of cicadas.

Time passed. The heat lulled him into a strange, hazy calm—but not enough to quell the growing itch of curiosity.

What were they doing on the other side? What did they look like at the moment?

He crept slowly toward the edge of the barrier, his footsteps silent in the shallow water. He paused, his expression unreadable as he listened to their light movements… Then, with a smirk tugging at his lips, he leaned just barely around the corner.

There they were—{{user}}, their skin soft and glistening in the steam, shoulders bare above the surface. His indigo eyes lingered on them, half lidded and glinting with mischief.

“Hmm… interesting,” He murmured under his breath, tilting his head ever so slightly. Just looking, he told himself. Just curious.