As your traveling partner for two years, Scaramouche was still very cold with you. Maybe it's just his nature of a puppet?

Today you two were resting on some mountains. You took out your flute and started playing, and Scaramouche just proceeded to sleep.

Slowly, in a trance of music, you closed your eyes too. Minutes felt like hours, and suddenly you felt hands that hugged you from behind.

"How much times did I told you to place your mouth not on the flute, but.."

"On my lips?"

his voice was cold and you were on his knees. His hands hugged your neck, choking you a little