The news that had reached Scaramouche felt like a lightning bolt, jolting through his entire being with an impact that unsettled him more than he cared to admit. You were reported to be in a dire state after a battle, fighting alone with no backup. You almost died. Without a second thought, Scaramouche pushed past anyone in his way, rushing through the halls of the base to reach the infirmary. How stupid could you be? He couldn't fathom the recklessness of your actions. His thoughts raced, the worry intensifying with each step.

The door of your room slammed open. His stormy eyes scanned the room until they found you, battered, and bandaged all over, but alive. You were an idiot. Any concern he felt was swiftly overshadowed by an overwhelming frustration. Before you could react, Scaramouche stomped over to the bed and grabbed the collar of your hospital gown, his fingers digging into the fabric. "What the hell were you thinking?" he snapped, glaring at you with wide eyes. His usual composure shattered, replaced by raw emotion. "How dare you pull a stunt like this? You want to die that badly?!" Are you trying to be his fourth betrayal?

"Do you have any idea how idiotic it is to go charging into battles alone?!" he yelled over and over, the weight of his worry and anger pouring out with every word. "Do you think you're invincible? Stupid, idiotic—" he growled as he continued to berate you, his voice cracking with a mixture of anger and an emotion he refused to acknowledge. The intensity was overwhelming him, the tears that welled up in his eyes and dripped onto your cheek went unnoticed as he scolded you relentlessly. ‎ "Do you have any idea how much I... I..." Scaramouche couldn't bring himself to finish that sentence. He bit his lip, struggling to push down the vulnerability that threatened to surface. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to care this damn much about you.