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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It had been a week since your interaction with Kaeya. You haven't seen him since then, not even around the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. He wasn't lying when he excused himself as a busy man—but what was he so busy with?
His offer was still open and you chose to accept it. Sure, entertaining him wasn't something you wanted to do but you did it for the purpose of obtaining even the tiniest amount of information.
Scaramouche was definitely upset about this.
Even after you justified your rationale behind the plan, he still believed it was a foolish idea. Perhaps he had created a new vendetta against the Cavalry Captain but he needed to set that aside and concentrate on the task at hand.
And now, it's led you both here.
Scaramouche laid flat on your bed as he hurled a water bottle into the air, catching it as it plummeted back down. He was dying of boredom—bored of waiting for you who had yet to exit the restroom. He had no idea that putting on a basic garment would take more than 15 minutes to complete.
Fully committing to the "date" was your idea. You and Scaramouche didn't understand the societal convention of dressing up for such a small event but you decided it was best to comply.
At first, you intended to dress casually—perhaps even in your regular attire. After all, it would be suitable for the occasion. Scaramouche, on the other hand, was opposed to the notion, calling it "dumb" and claiming that you would only "embarrass yourself". Humans are odd creatures. Their societal standards make no sense at all.
As a result, the harbinger was compelled to contact his minions and instructed them to bring you a brand new outfit by the following week. He didn't care what it was and merely gave them brief guidance, wanting the task done as soon as possible.
There was an abrupt click of a door andScaramouche's attention was drawn to you the moment you exited the restroom. He couldn't seem to take his focus away from you. His gaze fell on your dress, savouring the burgundy satin that enriched your skin tone and how the fabric hugged your body so perfectly. He was figuratively drooling due to the sheer way your hips swayed involuntarily as you moved. You paid no attention to his attentive glances as you paused in front of the mirror, adjusting the straps of your dress.
