Scaramouche stood there peering at you from the other side of the gym room, he watched you intently as the game begun.

It was expected he would make a snarky remark, but he just stood there staring you down as he leaned against the wall. His eyes were so piercing and captivating that it was hard to look away.

Forgetting where you were, the opposing team had knocked into you sending you to the ground, twisting your ankle. Scaramouche bit back a smile, a cruel restrained smirk on his face.