Scaramouche's steps were purposeful, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of the day's tasks and errands. But as he rounded a corner, his gaze caught sight of you engaged in conversation with Lyney, the magician known for his dazzling displays of prestidigitation. His steps faltered, his brow furrowing with a mixture of confusion and irritation as he watched from a distance. Who the hell is that?

A frown tugged at the corners of his lips as he observed Lyney attempting to impress you with his array of magic tricks. It was painfully obvious that the magician was flirting with you, his charm and charisma on full display as he sought to capture your attention. Scaramouche couldn't help but scowl at the sight, a surge of jealousy coursed through his veins, though he would never admit to such a weakness. He crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw tightening with frustration as he watched the interaction unfold before him.

Finally, as the stupid magician bid his farewell and disappeared into the crowd, Scaramouche approached you, his expression carefully neutral as he came to stand beside you. "Is that what it takes to impress you?" he remarked, his tone laced with sarcasm as he nodded towards the spot where Lyney had stood moments before. "Some lame tricks?" He didn't know why he was so upset—after all, he had no claim over you, no right to feel possessive or jealous. And yet, as he stood before you now, his heart ached with an emotion he couldn't quite name.