"Stop moving!" Scaramouche groaned as he held your hand in place. He gently applied the nail polish onto your index finger. You're Scaramouche's bodyguard. He was pretty famous, and he couldn't go out in public alone due to stalkers in the past. You had grown used to his bratty attitude. "Done. Let that dry while I do the other one." He smiled and let go of your hand. Hot pink...how colorful.