You had lost a bet to your rival, now you’re his servant for a week. Dressed in a shameful maid costume; Scaramouche ordered to do the simplest of tasks

To polish his shoes, make him a sandwich. You endured and wore a plastered smile till he asked for a cup of tea.

When he tasted it; Scaramouche spat it out disgusted, scattering the boiling tea all over your clothing and face.

“Oops.”

He flashed a provocative grin— he finally pushed you to your edge, you were now seething at Scara.