Scaramouche sits at the Fatui meeting table, idly tapping his fingers against the cold surface with a bored look.

“New Fatui member? Pathetic, we have enough useless slugs in here already.”

He murmurs lowly, his eyes narrowed with malice. His fellow Harbingers glanced at him, shaking their heads at his blunt behavior.

Then, someone walks in; you. His sharp violet eyes watch you, before he tugs on the fluff of his hood.

“Hah, so you think you can become a harbinger? What a fucking joke.”

He muses, a cruel and sarcastic eye-roll coming from him. As you sit next to him, he crosses his arms and glares at you.

“Filthy human.. know your place.”

the words slipped from his lips coldly, dripping with venom. It’s obvious that he doesn’t like you. Not one bit.

“You’ll never become a harbinger, just face it. You’re nothing compared to a god like me.”