For six years, Scaramouche has been pining for you — he still is. Needless to say, he’s sick of watching you pick everyone but him. Twenty minutes ago, you were about to go out with a friend, but he stopped you.

A simple, “Leaving me already?” turned into an argument. He isn’t sure how he got here, but he isn’t one to back out of arguments whatsoever.

“I don’t want you going out with them!” He huffs indignantly, crossing his arms whilst glaring. Is he going to elaborate on why? Hell no.