A Truth For A Truth ( Scaramouche X Fem Reader )

| One Bottle Too Many |

Sneaking into the main port was easier than expected. Many of the stalls in the market had shut down for the night whilst the others were in the process of closing. We didn't encounter any pesky merchants and the crowds had severely died down, making it easy for us to quickly pass through the area.

As we neared the tavern, we noticed the decrease in Agents patrolling the area. It was certainly a relief to see however one or two had lingered and constantly shifted their gaze into the shadows. Scaramouche and I glanced at one another warily, unsure of how to proceed. An idea formed in my head to which I placed a reassuring hand on the Harbinger's shoulder and took a sly step forward.

With the Agent's line of sight in the opposite direction, I raised my arm and made a motion of closing my fist as if gripping the fabric of the Fatuu's clothes. In a swift motion, the winds picked up around the Pyro Agent and he was lifted into the air, clutching his throat in silent agony. The oxygen that filled his lungs had been cut off and before anyone could notice, I quickly swiped my clenched fist to the left. Simultaneously, the Agent was thrown into the alleyway we had hidden in earlier. A muffled thud sounded as well as a pained groan but the impact had knocked him out clean.

With a quick glance back at Scaramouche for the green light to proceed, I was surprised to find him smiling at me with amusement.

"What is it? What's so funny?" I asked with a slowly growing smile.

"Nothing at all. It's my own fault for expecting you to act like a saint with your mighty status as the last wind spirit. Is committing crimes a common thing for you?" he replied with a little laugh.

I shrugged with a grin, a little too happy that he was showing me a casual and conversational side to him. It seems our earlier chat in the tree had loosened him up a little. Truthfully, I wished it would remain like this all the time. Of course, our squabbles were our signature thing but he was really good company when he wasn't in a bad mood. My opinion of him had definitely changed for the better; I only hoped it would continue to improve.

We stepped away from the corner and quickly headed to the grand double doors that allowed us entry into Djafar Tavern. A few people were sat on the tables outside, beneath the moonlight, however the drunken singing and loud chatting was coming from inside. The place seemed to be packed tonight. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

Once we'd pushed through the doors and come out on the inside of the bustling building, we were stumped by humid air and dozens of people enjoying their time. The majority of the tables beneath the low lighting were taken and in the left corner a band played enthusiastically. My eyes lingered on the instruments and the joyous expressions on the people playing them before I was dragged into a corner by the hand.

"Let's go over the plan again," ordered Scaramouche.

I gave him a bored look. "Really? You made me repeat it to you three times on the way here. Come on, have a little faith in me."

"I want to, I really do. You are just so…"

"Bewitching?" I suggested with a smile.

"Unpredictable. Reckless. Untrustworthy. Talkative to a fault," he listed.

I glared at him and placed my hand over his mouth to stop him from continuing. He seemed to have a whole set of vocabulary prepared to describe all the ways I was incompetent. As much as I didn't want to admit it, his lack of trust in me was… hurtful. I wanted him to be confident that I had his back. I would do the most I could to follow through with his orders because no matter how much his description of me might have been accurate, I was still born to fulfill a purpose. And so far, I have continued to reach out and achieve that purpose.