| A Market Of Truths |

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We opted to avoid sneaking in the shadows because of the lack of concealing corners. Furthermore, we realised we looked even more suspicious tip toeing around and chose to blend in with the dense crowds throughout the market. On more than one occasion did I try to catch a glimpse of the products and services being sold however Scaramouche insisted we move along quickly. The sun was setting awfully fast and we didn't want to spend any more time than necessary.

As we slipped past another stall with a yelling merchant, a single voice not too far away seemed to call for my attention. "You there, miss! Yes, you! I couldn't help but call after you when I realised how splendid you would look in one of our new dresses!"

He closed the distance between us after I'd turned to regard him. Unfortunately, he seemed to interpret it as interest in his products however I was more than happy in my current attire. The man was now standing in front of me, his brown curly locks tumbling over his eyes. The grin he wore could only be attached to that of an experienced businessman.

"Thank you for your kind words but I must decline. Not to mention I'm in a hurry, please excuse me." I nodded politely and attempted to manoeuvre around him to catch up with Scaramouche.

To my dismay, this young man was persistent. He took one bold step closer, shortening the distance between us even further and soon his hand was reaching towards me, attempting to latch onto my arm.

"Please miss, you simply must get a look at the fashion we bring in from overseas!" he insisted.

Attempting to get out of his reach before his hand reached me, I felt the small proximity of the crowds around me. If I were to step back, I would go through those behind me but if I remained in my spot, the merchant would try to touch me and completely miss. Why do I always get myself in these predicaments?et

"I'm really not interested, please don't touch me-"

I almost resorted to pretending I was a ghost and just walking through him; however it would blow my cover and others would soon notice. There were Fatui in Sumeru, I simply couldn't risk it. As I tried to put some space in between us, I frantically looked around for an exit when I heard the man yelp. My eyes returned to him only to see his hand in someone else's grip, held so tight the skin was turning a concerning shade of red. I grimaced and matched the hand to the person that could only belong to my travel companion.

"Keep your filth to yourself, bastard. She told you she doesn't want shit, get lost," snarled a familiar, cold voice beside me.

The merchant whimpered and nodded quickly. In a haste to get away from the scene that was now attracting much unwanted attention, I pulled Scaramouche away from the persistent businessman and dragged him into the abundance of people.

"Why did you have to go and cause a scene? We are supposed to be inconspicuous!" I hissed as I turned to read his expression.

Scaramouche was still grouchy and seemed awfully irritated on my account. He shrugged indifferently and allowed me to lead us towards the tavern. Soon, any commotion caused behind us was forgotten as the Harbinger and I escaped the scene hand in hand.

Only one thing was running through my mind at that moment: Scaramouche had protected me. He had gotten me out of a sticky situation and defended me against the man. My skin was warm, my stomach was doing fun back flips and my brain was frazzled. If I didn't know any better, I would think he cared about me just the slightest.

I did know better but that didn't stop me from hoping. All in a matter of days, he had apologised willingly for actions that he didn't do out of his own volition, he let me touch his hair (small gesture but impactful), and he even hinted at having paid attention to me during our time in the palace. I will not draw worthless and obviously incorrect conclusions from such small actions but I think I'm really beginning to develop some form of appreciation and affection towards this man.

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