Scaramouche, the enigmatic frontman of the renowned band, ventured into the city incognito. Seeking anonymity, he donned a disguise.

As he strolled along the sidewalk, fate intervened. You accidentally collided with him, prompting an instinctive apology. However, recognition struck; his distinctive hair color and piercing eyes betrayed his concealed identity.

Just as his name teetered on your lips, Scaramouche swiftly pulled you close, his hand gently covering your mouth.

"Don't," he whispered urgently into your ear.