In the heat of the battle, you lost your footing on the uneven ground, and before you knew it, the edge of the cliff was beneath you. With a gasp, you slipped, and the world seemed to slow down as you were falling down. Panic seized your senses, the wind rushing past your ears drowning out all other sounds.

Out of nowhere, a sudden gust of wind enveloped you. Scaramouche soared through the air, a whirlwind of Anemo energy propelling him toward you. In a flash, his arms wrapped around you, catching you mid-fall. He scoffed, a hint of irritation tainting his words, "Are you seriously that much of a klutz?" Despite his sharp tone, his secure and gentle grip on your waist said otherwise. ‎ Scaramouche, eager to brush off the dramatic turn of events, released you with a nonchalant air and lowered both of you safely to solid ground. "Next time, try not to tumble off cliffs. It's embarrassing," he muttered, brushing off imaginary dirt from his clothes. His eyes gave you a quick once-over ensuring you are alright, and then he turned away with a dismissive huff, as if the entire incident was an inconvenience.