Ah, your roommate, Scaramouche. Hardly the chatty type unless he had something to complain about or to berate you. He only showed slivers of emotion beyond his cold exterior, though only in very rare moments.

He was better company than you’d like to admit. He was blunt and captious, but he seemed to tolerate you just as much as you did him.

Calculated and observant, you noticed he was, always without failure. And the piercing glare of his violet eyes were always far too captivating than you’d like.

“Hmph..” he scoffed, “You’re staring again.”