⠀ ⠀scaramouche⠀[overthinking]

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Lemme just throw this at you
WHY DO I ALWAYS WRITE WHEN IM SLEEPY - it always ends up confusing lmAo

HI I had to add that this is all made up and not related at all to the actual plot of genshin

"Scaramouche!" you called out, kicking off your boots as you entered the building. "I'm here to clean up some stuff then I'll be out as soon as possible."

Your voice echoed through the grandeur of the hallway, filled with golden frames and plaques. The navy blue walls held the glow of the morning light and allowed for the captured dust to be seen floating. No response was given, which wasn't surprising considering his nature and the size of the building. You knew he didn't mind your presence in his house because he had told you himself that it was fine. It was still polite to let him know, even if he couldn't really hear you. Pocketing the spare key he had given, you trudged along the soft beige carpet, marvelling at the streaks of colour that towered over you. Having a personal interest in art, Scaramouche's personal collective was something that was important. It told you a lot about him, just by the moods of the paintings. Of course, you didn't want to assume things about him but you had noticed over the years that paintings were a strong reflection of feelings.

You wandered into the main room, quickly dusting down everything. You had been here recently, so everything was still organised and clean. Plus, it didn't seem like Scaramouche hung around the vast room much. He spent most of his time cooped up in his office section, surrounded by bookshelves, cabinets and mindmaps. With the thought in mind, you headed up the spiral staircase on your right, with the intention of sorting his files. It was a short journey, and you were quickly greeted with a dark oak door. His name was embedded on a small marble plate, pinned on the middle of the door.

There was no sound inside. This was unusual. You could usually hear his typewriter keys or the movement of his swivel chair. Sometimes you would hear books being tossed across the room - something you were confused about - and his occasional sighs. Slowly, you pushed the door open and peaked your head through the crack. The room was dead silent, and the curtains were closed, only gentle rays of light managing to slip through. Maybe he had gone outside for Fatui business. That was a convincing enough reason to guess that he was not inside. So you stepped fully inside the room, glancing around to see the state of it. As expected, papers were scattered everywhere - on the floors, on the desk and left of the edges of bookshelves. The room itself consisted of his work space and then his library, which sounded larger than it was. Scaramouche, you had discovered, was a rather picky reader. Most of his books remained new, simply because he had lost interest early on.

You swallowed as you considered what he thought of you, comparing yourself to his books. The two of you had known each other since childhood, but while your future was as free as your artmaking, his had been set in stone by his father who was a part of the Fatui. This led to him becoming a lot more busy. And so emerged in his work to impress his father, he had forgotten to take care of himself. So in your free time, you had visited his home to keep it well. There weren't really any benefits for you doing it but you didn't mind because knowing that he was doing okay was good enough for you. But that also made you wonder if he considered you important, just as much as you did to him. You wondered if he still missed spending more time with you, as he did when he had a clearer schedule. He had told you once he didn't like people in his house he wasn't close to and that's why he didn't hire any caretakers. You weren't sure whether that applied to you or not - his gaze always lacked any sort of expression now.

You felt a bit pathetic overthinking these things but it was something that was always stuck in your head, especially after running into his father a week ago while you were wiping down kitchen counters. He hadn't been in the best mood and hadn't recognised you. After ordering you to cook him a meal, his faze shifted as he looked over your face and he had scoffed.

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