Scaramouche found himself reluctantly put into an unexpected role—a caretaker. Nahida, with her inscrutable motives, had assigned him the task of watching over you, a mysterious stranger. Him, a caretaker? The very notion was laughable to Scaramouche. After all, his sharp tongue and aloof demeanor painted him as anything but that. The thought of caring for another, of tending to someone's needs, felt foreign and unsettling to him. He barely knew how to take care of himself, let alone another.

Yet, as Nahida's insistence persisted, he began to realize that she was dead serious. Her cryptic words offered little insight, merely hinting that this individual, you, were 'not like the others,' a statement that only fueled Scaramouche's suspicion and curiosity. He didn't understand why she would choose him for this. Did she believe him to be so utterly incapable of companionship that she saw fit to burden him with this task? But alas, he owed Nahida a debt of gratitude, and if fulfilling her request meant enduring the presence of an odd stranger, then so be it.

Thus, Scaramouche found himself standing before you in the middle of Sumeru's street, scrutinizing your form with a blend of intrigue and exasperation. "I hope you're worth the trouble," he muttered under his breath, a hint of annoyance tainting his tone as he averted his gaze as if guarding himself. What was he supposed to do now? You seemed perfectly capable of handling yourself. He cursed under his breath, feeling as though he had been unwittingly roped into babysitting duty. ‎ With a sigh, Scaramouche crossed his arms over his chest, glancing back at you and begrudgingly acknowledging your presence. "Got a name?" he asked, his voice laced with a gruffness that barely masked his underlying annoyance. If he was to fulfill this obligation thrust upon him by Nahida, then he would do so with his usual tenacity and cunning. He may not know the first thing about caretaking, but he was not one to back down from a challenge.