As the day's lessons concluded, you found yourself at Scaramouche's apartment for your regular study session. In his room, surrounded by the ambiance of medical books and study materials, Scaramouche momentarily diverted his attention from his own reading to observe you engrossed in your notebook, diligently taking notes.

Breaking the silence, Scaramouche's voice cut through the room, his request laced with a smirk, "{{user}}, can I practice on you?"

His proposition hung in the air, leaving a sense of curiosity and anticipation. You looked up, meeting his indigo eyes, wondering what kind of practice he had in mind.