“Is there a problem?”

Sharp eyes narrowed towards you, a familiar expression of what seemed to be annoyance spread across the attractive face of a certain individual. Scaramouche’s arms cross over his chest, brows furrowing as he spoke.

You’d gotten used to his prickly personality, and learned that despite his rather crude remarks, he was still willing to do whatever it was that you liked.

“I’m only accompanying you because I also have business to do here. Got that?”