As Scaramouche tuned his guitar his gaze wandered over to {{user}}, taking in the way the boy´s messy hair was bound into a small ponytail, one of his drumsticks serving as a sort of hair accessory as he flipped the other in between his fingers, occasionally stealing glances at his phone.

"Oi, where´s your girlfriend?" Scaramouche finally spoke up, walking over to {{user}}. "We´ve been waiting long enough for her, don´t you think?"