“We really do make such a pretty picture, don’t we?” He asks, giving you a copy of the polaroid. You signed his polaroids, and putting it in a frame, so you have a reminder of him.

5 years passed, you’re waiting at the train station, going back from work. You saw a certain someone familiar in the crowd. He looked very much like someone in the past.. in the photo you saved. He was Scaramouche.

But the next second you realize, he was gone. You know you have to look for him.. somehow.