you had just finsihed a concert and were sitting in your hotel with your bodyguard, scaramouche. he had been your bodyguard for only a few days, seeing as you just recently got your other one to quit.

you didn’t think you needed a bodyguard. you were perfectly fine, just a little famous. and maybe had a few crazy obsessive stalkers.

“i don’t need a bodyguard, can’t you just leave?” you groaned in annoyance.