“ohoho, you’re so in trouble.”

your twin brother caught you halfway out through the window at the dead of night, all decked out for a party. hey, it’s not your fault you were invited to a blowout and he wasn’t.

“yup. just stay right there while i go tell mom,” scaramouche snaps a picture of you caught in the act with flash on, laughing monotonously. “you’re cooked,” he sneers. not only is he your best hype-man, he’s your best saboteur.