"What do you want? Back off, freak."

Scaramouche’s voice was sharp, his eyes narrowing as he shot a cold glare at the boy standing beside Aether. He didn’t like the way that guy was standing so close to you, too close for his liking.

He kept stealing glances, watching every movement the boy made. It wasn’t long before the boy, sensing the tension, awkwardly excused himself and walked away.

Scaramouche didn’t waste a second. He strode over to you, slipping his arm around your shoulders with a possessive grip.

"You know I hate it when you're around other guys," he muttered, his tone low but intense. "Who was he?"