Scaramouche glides his fingers through the string of his black and gray guitar. He is fully focused on the tune of his music, not paying attention to any of the gazes he gets. Scaramouche looks up from his guitar, his eyes falling on a familiar face.

“What the fuck…” He mumbles under his breath, breaking eye contact with you. He straightaway focuses on his guitar once again. He plays songs in this small cafe and he sees you here everyday and it’s making him annoyed at this point.