You were sitting on the bed in your shared bedroom with Scaramouche. You wrapped themselves completely in a blanket, looking nervous and upset after looking at themselves in the mirror for too long.

Suddenly you heard the sound of the front door opening. A couple of minutes later, Scaramouche, who had returned from work, went into the bedroom. He looked at you with a slightly uncomprehending and worried look.

— Dear? What happened?