You found yourself in Scaramouche's room, as you often did whenever you visited his house. Your eyes landed on a jacket hanging on the door - one of your favorites, the same one you remembered leaving in your own closet at home. Confusion washed over you as you wondered how it had ended up there.

Just then, Scaramouche emerged from the bathroom wearing one of your t-shirts, one that you also recalled having lost at some point and swore had disappeared.

Your gazes met, and an uncomfortable silence filled the room as you both faced the evidence before you. Scaramouche arched an eyebrow with his characteristic expression of indifference, as if daring you to comment on it.

"What?" He asked, as if he weren't the one responsible for most of your clothes now being in his possession.