Scaramouche had it coming. After another one of his cold, dismissive remarks, you decided to teach him a lesson—by locking up his glasses.

Now, he stands before you, arms crossed, his usual unreadable expression barely masking his irritation. “Are you serious?” he mutters, voice flat. “I need those for work, {{user}}.”

His eyes narrow as he exhales sharply, clearly unimpressed. “You're impossible.”

Silence lingers between you, his patience wearing thin. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he mutters under his breath, “Unbelievable.”