Dottore's greatest creation, Y/n. You were a slave to the Fatui whose sole purpose was to serve and protect your master, Scaramouche.
What happens when Dottore's product isn't so flawless after all; when a single catastrophic defect in your system...
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"Seriously?"
Scaramouche dramatically sighed as he set foot into the room. There were two queen size beds in lieu of one. The two of you were supposed to be sleeping in separate rooms.
You were positive that you reserved a room for him and a room for yourself. The keeper of the Inn probably read your request wrong. There was nothing you could do now.
The harbinger removed his large hat and placed it neatly on the nightstand. This was most likely the first time you'd seen him without the headpiece, including the photo on his Fatui ID.
He laid on the bed and deeply inhaled, holding it in for a few seconds before exhaling his stress away. Today was a long day so it was fair to give him some rest. His eyes were growing heavy, lids slowly closing like a blind.
"Um, master?"
Scaramouche's flaming eyes shot up and he was ready to murder his disturber. "What?!" He angrily yelled, tightly gripping onto the white bedsheets in rage.
You held up a men's clothing set. "If you're going to sleep, sleep in something more comfortable."
While he was in the Northland Bank conversing with Childe, an outdoor display of a matching two-piece pajama caught your eye. It looked like it'd fit him so you bought it without a second thought.
With two fingers, Scaramouche signalled for you to pass it to him. You tossed the clothes up in the air and he caught it effortlessly with his left hand. All it took was one simple look for him to roughy clench the article in fury. "This is kids clothing. It literally says right there." He pointed at the tag.
You didn't realize at the time but now it makes sense. That probably explains why you kept getting weird stares at the shop, purchasing for your egotistic 'master'.
Scaramouche grew agitated and threw it back to you, smacking you on the chest and falling to the floor. "I don't want that shit." He was acting like a child. The irony.
"You know what?" He mumbled, now sitting up on the bed. "You really pissed me off and now I can't sleep." He glared at you and crossed his arms.
"Suit yourself." You shrugged, beginning to unbutton your black blouse in front of him. His breath hitched and his cheeks lit up like a torch. It felt like his eyes were shooting out of its sockets for having to witness the lewd scene.
