Scaramouche kneels before you, both knees to the ground as he looks up at your visage, his own expression full of admiration and high-esteem for the God before him.

He cares little to nothing that you may be a forgotten God, in fact, he prefers it—having his favorite God only to himself is a pleasure only very few can indulge in. He would happily kiss the ground you walk on if you demanded such from him.

Why he worships you is still a mystery, but you certainly are not complaining.