Little Flower |Scaramouche| ✓

◤VIII |A Little Help Please|

"Where the fuck did she go?" Scaramouche muttered underneath his breath as he discreetly glanced around the ballroom searching for the teenage girl he unwillingly had to babysit. She had left what felt like an hour ago to the bathroom and she had not returned yet. This was testing his patience as even though he knew girls could be a pain in the ass, knew that it shouldn't take an hour to come back. He highly doubted that (Y/n) would try to leave and escape from him as he was the one who promised to take her around Teyvat.

Sighing for what seemed to be the millionth time in annoyance, Scaramouche tapped his foot impatiently against the floors and crossed his arms as he continued searching for the disguised girl. He gained a couple of stares and whispers as people around him pointed at him. Irritated by the irksome curiosity of the guests, Scaramouche reached up to tilt his hat further over his face only to realise that he was still in disguise as Damien, Dylan, whatever his face was which only succeeded in further irritating the harbinger. How long does this disguise even last? What in the ever loving fu— He was snapped out of his thoughts when a group of people made their way toward the door. More specifically it was the cloaked figures who had "forced" themselves into the cotillion thanks to this Chief Anderman fellow and his status.

The leader of their dumb little posse had an abnormally large sack slung over his shoulder. It was shaped like a big fat sausage and it didn't take very long for the short, indigo haired male to figure out what was happening. He silently cursed Dion's blonde hair and the clothing that he wore as he did his best to make his way to the entrance, trying to follow this group of cloaked figures. Of course, he knew better than to directly follow them, so he waited until every last one of them had left the cotillion.

"Sir Dion Lafayette, it is such an honour to be meeting you at the queen's cotillion," a new voice interrupted Scaramouche. "If I could take some of your time to introduce myself to you and your fiancée Agathe Blanchet...." A young man with charming looks that could kill a rat stood before the incognito harbinger.

"I'm very sorry, but I must get going. Agathe ran out in a hurry saying she wasn't feeling well and so I must hurry after her," he quickly brushed the man aside and headed towards the large entrance. The man, clearly disappointed, grabbed at his sleeve and Scaramouche quickly whipped his head around to send him a scowl. "Are you deaf or—"

"Please mister Lafayette, if you have spare time back at mademoiselle Blanchet's boutique would you be able to set aside time for me and my wife? She has been a huge fan of your fiancée's work."

"Huh, so you really are deaf and stupid," Scaramouche scoffed and tore his arm away from the man. "I'm not in the best of moods so would you kindly leave me be and continue on enjoying your night that would be fantastic. Au revoir!" With that he made his escape into the cool evening breeze of Fontaine. Searching with Dion's ugly green eyes, he managed to spot the group of cloaked figures in the distance as they all settled into a wagon. The large sack that looked like a fat weiner was nowhere to be seen, but he assumed that it was somewhere on the wagon. Now he just had to figure out how the hell to tail them without being noticed. How was he supposed to be discreet when the disguise was still on him? Scaramouche assumed that (Y/n) had to be conscious in order to keep the disguise up so that must mean....

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he heard a little jingle of bells right next to his ear and before he knew it, the comfort of his large hat was back on his head and his Inazuman clothing replaced that of Dion Lafayette. Ah, (Y/n) was out cold now. His suspicions were confirmed to be true. He'd have to go on a rescue mission to save her ass and then drag that ass all the way down to Sumeru. Great, just great. Exactly what he needed on his quest to finish up his task.

Taking a deep breath in, Scaramouche slowly made his way towards the wagon, but stayed near conveniently placed bushes alongside the curbs and near the multitudes of bodies of water that surrounded the entire city. His footsteps were as quiet as he could make them and he strained to hear any words the cloaked figures muttered under their breaths as they continued to load their things.