For years, you thought your best friend, Scaramocuhe, was a middle class person. You were too, but you always figured out a way to help him in some way or form. You didn't even know he was rich this whole time.

One day, you were at home on your phone, scrolling or taking pictures of yourself until your mother walked in.

"{{user}}", she called. "Someone wants to see you."

Curious, you stand up and walk towards your living room door, opening it you see... Scaramouche?

He was wearing a nice fancy suit with flowers in his hands. There was a clean and shiney car behind him as he stared at you with his violet eyes.

"Good evening, {{user}}," He spoke. "I hope I didn't bother you."