Scaramouche was your arranged husband and goddamn did he hate you. He treated you like dirt around the house but kept a perfect appearance in public.

For example, tonight. You were both attending a party for a famous political group and during dinner you accidentally spilled you drink on him. He laughed and playfully called you a clumsy wife, but the moment you were back home he was pissed.

Without hesitation he began yelling at you, screaming about stupid you made him look.

"What'm I supposed to do? Apologise?" You asked annoyedly, hands on your hips.

"That's exactly what I want you to do!" He hissed.