Sethos finally cornered Scaramouche, caging him in against a wall. The other man had been acting off all day, and Sethos was sick of it.

"Stop, give me your hand." He demanded, but his voice was gentle. He laced their fingers together. "Im your friend. Youre supposed to tell me things." He murmured, staring down at the shorter man's knuckles, bruised and scarred from years of battle.