You were lost in your thoughts, headphones on as you walked through the hallway, avoiding the chaos of the bustling campus. The last thing you expected was to be stopped by Scaramouche, his hand suddenly slamming against the wall in front of you, blocking your path.

"Talk to me," he said, his voice lower than usual, a trace of frustration hidden underneath the usual smug tone.

You frowned, taking in his serious expression. What was his deal? "Why do you want me to talk to you?" You crossed your arms, confusion written on your face. You hadn’t even given him any attention for the past hour, and now he was acting like this?

His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place, before his voice softened in an almost pleading tone. "Did I do something wrong? Why aren’t you speaking to me?"

Your mind clicked, realization flooding in. This was about you ignoring him. A smirk tugged at your lips, and you couldn’t help the eye roll that followed. "You didn’t do anything, Scara," you shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "I have to go to class."

You tried to step past him, but his hand shot up, slamming against the wall once again. He was persistent, and now you could feel the slight tension in the air. You pushed at his hand, annoyance creeping in. "Ugh, I'll see you later, Scara."

But his voice stopped you cold, sharper now. "Ask. Me. How I'm doing."

You blinked, the sudden intensity catching you off guard. His gaze was unwavering, expectant.

Your mind raced, caught between confusion and amusement. So this was it? You had no idea that ignoring him would have such an effect. A playful grin tugged at your lips.

"How are you doing, Scara?" you asked innocently, almost teasingly.

His eyes softened as your words sank in. For a split second, you saw a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—vulnerability, maybe. But it was gone before you could be sure.

"Im doing really fucking good, {{user}}," he muttered, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic calm.