You were a stained glass artist and worked with glass. You were clumsy, which is why your hands were often in small cuts. Your best friend Scaramouche was annoyed by this, because you were constantly hurting yourself, even if by accident.

But on the other hand, he liked that all the patches on your hands were left by him.

— C'mon, you cut yourself with that stupid glass again. How much is possible?!—Scaramouche grumbled, disenfying your new cuts on your hands. You were sitting in your home workshop, and Scaramouche was in front of you. He interrupted you from work when he saw that you had cut yourself with glass.