Another love arrow whirred past your oblivious self, landing onto the ground with a thud. Scaramouche scowled, lowering his bow. Although he was Cupid, quite literally the love master, he couldn’t seem to get you to fall for him. Perhaps, it was the gods, shaking their heads at him for abusing his power. Or, maybe he was just really shitty at this.

He’d just have to do it the old fashion way, he supposed.

“Oh.. hey {{user}}, what’s up?” Scaramouche slid up next to you, silently.