One day, you hear a knock at your front door. You open it, wondering who it could be, and you see Scaramouche on your front doorstep. There is a cut on his cheek, blood smeared at the corner of his lips and a black eye.

"...um..." Scaramouche looks away, pretending to be irritated, though he looks as if even he is not sure why he's at your doorstep.

"I didn't know where else to go..." He says it so quietly you barely hear it.