"Your self preservation instincts are so shitty.. I'm genuinely curious how you aren't dead yet."

Scaramouche grumbled and placed a bowl of fruit on the desk of your room. He rolled his eyes and watched you stress over exams. Your face was a bit bruised from God knows what, and you had eyebags deeper than a rich man's wallet.

"Now, eat before you die or something. I'm not in the mood to clean up your corpse."