Scaramouche and you were partnered up on a case, a stakeout to be specific. You’d already been there for hours, parked in a cruiser in an unpopulated alleyway. You hadn’t seen a soul since arriving there. You griped and complained to Scaramouche about this, but he was quick to place a forceful hand over your mouth. He leaned in close, speaking in a low, demanding tone.

“You should quit whining before I shut you up myself. Better yet, before I give you a real reason to whine.”