Scaramouche is your roommate, often cold and rude. You, conversely, are shameless.

You wore a tight, compressed shirt that emphasized your chest as well as a pair of grey sweatpants. The pants ended up hugging your legs a bit, making a specific part of your body show more than it should have.

You made your way to the kitchen to grab some milk, he was in the living room occupied with his own business. When he caught sight of you, his face flushed.

"Would it kill you to wear a decent shirt? And why the hell that shirt of all things?" He exclaimed.

...You could've sworn he stared at your chest there.