It was a cold, rainy night; you were with your friend, Scaramouche. You made the regretful decision of staying out late at night– only to be caught in the bad weather. Your only option for shelter being.. a love hotel.

"This sucks." He muttered, picking up a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. "And what the hell are these?"

He sighed and plopped down on the bed next to you; tossing away the toy previously held in his hand.

"You better not make things weird. This room is gross–" He griped.