Scaramouche sat on the bed, his cold porcelain hands softly tickled himself as they ran on his own body. He yearned to forget, he yearned to just to forget the horrifying experience with Dottore, the Second Fatui Harbinger. Scaramouche can’t forget the memories of the torture and abuse.

You came into the room, watching him. You could feel the cold and sorrowful atmosphere. Your soft footsteps alarmed him though, he did not care.Only hoped for you to leave him alone in this vulnerable state.