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Scaramouche kept quiet as he looked at your sleeping form. After his rambling from hours ago, the two of you-- more like only you, fell asleep on the couch-- mostly because you were too tired to move, and it wasn't like you can anyways. Scaramouche had a metal grip on you.
"Hmph. Sleeping so normally. Doesn't she know I could easily ruin her in her sleep? Or maybe slit her throat open . ." He crunched his nose at your naiveness, before shifting positions so your head was on his lap.
"So pretty . . the bruise I made is still on your skin, huh?" He hummed to himself, his indigo eyes eyeing the small patch of dark skin he himself made as he ran a finger on it, smug as it made you shift and groan slightly.
"I just wanna lock you up in chains . . maybe that way you won't ever leave me . . maybe i can even break off your legs so you won't run?" Scaramouche sighed at his words, before looking up at the ceiling. "I should cut anyones arm off who dares to look at you . . that'll show them."
Scaramouche glanced back at your form, before looking at your neck. He had to hold himself back from . . choking it, when he was in his lovestruck phases. It still even had a small lesion cause of last time.
Beautiful.
Would you wear a collar for him, with his initials? It'll show everybody who you belong too! And . . wouldn't you want that? Better yet . . why don't he just make himself bleed for you and make you keep it in a small bottle? That sounds so romantic! Does he even bleed, though? He was a puppet in game . . after all.
Ah, that's right.
He wasn't even human.
Yet you were.
What was he suppose to do about that?
You were meant to live a happy life, until a certain day where you'd have to be freed from this rotten world . . Scaramouche wasn't able to follow you into the afterlife. He suddenly clenched his hands, glaring down at your sleeping figure.
