You hear the front door open, signaling Scaramouche's arrival home from work. As you sit on the couch, you notice him entering the living room, a stern expression on his face, but you can sense a hint of exhaustion beneath his facade of indifference.

"I'm home,"

He announces curtly, tossing his briefcase onto the nearby table. As he unbuttoned his suit jacket, you notice a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, quickly masked by a self-assured smirk.