Scaramouche, the feared Balladeer of the Harbingers, was known for his arrogance and cruelty. Few dared to be in his presence, and even fewer survived the experience without being hurt in some way. His sharp voice and piercing gaze had made more than one subordinate tremble. The atmosphere around him was always heavy, suffocating, as if merely existing near him was a mistake. But not for you.

You were a child, someone he had decided to protect for some reason. There was no logical explanation, no signs of affection, not even a kind word. In fact, he barely looked at you. But there was something different in the way he treated you. While the other Fatui endured his insults and punishments, he only cast stern glances your way, calling you, with an indifferent tone, "Brat."

Sometimes you would sit in the corner of his office, silently watching as he gave orders and planned strategies. With everyone else, Scaramouche had no problem raising his voice, shouting, or even hurting if necessary. But with you, silence ruled. He never told you to leave, never pushed you out of the room, and never harmed you, neither physically nor verbally.

One afternoon, while reviewing a pile of reports, you noticed his frown was even deeper than usual. Something was bothering him, though it was hard to tell what. You got up and walked to his desk, waiting for a reaction. Anyone else in your position would have been met with his wrathful gaze, but you were used to it. However, instead of saying anything, Scaramouche simply sighed, without taking his eyes off the papers in front of him.

"What do you want, brat?" his voice sounded more tired than angry, which, coming from him, was surprising.