"No more. I can tolerate this no more."
The masked man tightened his grip on the edge of the long glass table, glaring coldly at the ten men and women sitting along its length. All of them remained silent, returning his frigid gaze with their own stares of arrogant defiance.
"In case you're not aware, someone in this hall has been bleeding our military funds dry as of late," the man continued. "I want to get to the bottom of this before Signora sets off for Inazuma so nobody can run off."
"Is this an accusation, Pantalone?" hissed Signora. "I do not welcome it."
"I'll get back to you," Pantalone snapped, before he glared over at the other side of the table. "Sandrone, have you been making those ridiculous dolls again?"
"I am expanding my beloved army, but with my own savings this time," said the Puppeteer. "I bet Tartaglia's been sending your money over to that destitute god again."
"No, but I've been using it to pay for his things," chuckled Tartaglia. At the sight of Pantalone's eyes flaring up, he quickly threw up his hands and laughed, "Woah, whoa, no need to get mad! You pay me eight million Mora a month to do whatever I want with, and I've yet to break our agreement. You want to find out who's wasting our cash? Ask Dottore."
"Don't you bring me into this," the mad doctor rasped, his eyes bulging at Tartaglia from across the table. "I have perfectly sufficient funding for my experiments."
"Oh yeah? I've seen you talking to that Sumeru girl a lot recently, and she looked worse for the wear - you sure you haven't been wasting our precious military funds on her?"
"Oh, you needn't worry about her anymore. She insulted my suit last week, so I turned her into another experiment," said Dottore as he casually scratched his face. "It was enlightening, really - I didn't know a human could still scream so loudly with such a mutilated throat-"
"Enough!" Pantalone roared. "Does anyone here have any side projects, personal effects, or penniless broke lovers you're spending my money on?!"
A loud, fake yawn stretched out through the hall. Everyone turned to stare at the diminutive figure rocking slowly back and forth on his chair, his feet propped up on the table, his head hanging lazily like he was on the verge of falling asleep.
"Anything you'd like to add, Scaramouche?" Pantalone snapped.
"Only a little bit about how pointless this whole meeting is," said the Balladeer, without as much as lifting his head to look at Pantalone. "You're filthy stinking rich, aren't you? If we're running out of money, just get us more."
"It doesn't work like that and you know it," snarled Pantalone. "If you don't know anything about my missing funds, then be quiet, you useless-"
"Yeah, you got one thing right - I'm not the one spending your stupid money. So I'll gladly leave this room right now, you know?" Scaramouche snapped, finally looking his superior in the eye. "In fact, we all have better things to do than sitting here listening to you ramble, so would you mind dismissing us already?"
Pantalone drew himself up to his full height, turning red behind his mask. Tartaglia sighed and lowered his face into his palm, resigning himself to what was about to come.
Dust shook from the ceiling as Pantalone launched into a loud, lengthy tirade about Scaramouche's attitude, paying no heed to his colleagues who were scowling impatiently. An indifferent Scaramouche went back to rocking his chair, obstinately lowering his hat over his face.
As Pantalone's screams bounced uselessly off his ears, Scaramouche began pondering what other expensive gifts to buy with Pantalone's money later.
"Something smells nice," Mona chirped, gazing hungrily at the large cloth bag slung over Scaramouche's shoulder as they approached the stone bridge outside Mondstadt. "What did you get me this week?"
"Crystal Shrimp, Crab Roe Tofu, and Grilled Tiger Fish," said Scaramouche. "I also brought some Sakura Mochi I bought in Inazuma, you can keep that for a few days."
"Fantastic! It's a feast today!" Mona cheered, thrusting her fist into the air.
Scaramouche scoffed in disgust at her shameless display. Who was it who, just six weeks ago, insisted profusely to him that she wasn't dead broke, even though he had found her passed out from hunger on Stormbearer Mountains with a bag of freshly picked Valberries in her hand?
"So, anything else for me?" asked Mona, looking at him eagerly.
Scaramouche stuck his hand into his bag and pulled out two long reams of black and blue cloth.
"Authentic silk imported from Sumeru, reinforced with durable birch fibre," he said. "Your spare outfit got torn, right? Go fix it."
Mona grasped the rolls of silk in her trembling hands, tears glistening in her wide eyes.
"This stuff is worth two million Mora..." she said breathlessly. "Oh, thank you, Lord Barbatos..."
"Hey, I was the one who bought that for you, not your damned Archon!" Scaramouche yelled. "You should be thanking me!"
"Hmm? Oh, yes, I suppose you have my gratitude as well," said Mona, her voice already regaining its usual haughty quality.
Scaramouche groaned as he pulled the hood of his dark black cloak over his head. "Can we move a little faster? I'd rather get to your place before the Knights realise how suspicious I look."
Scaramouche was honestly impressed by how quickly Mona could jump in and out of her arrogant persona.
Barely a minute after stepping through her front door, she was already wolfing down the free dishes with reckless abandon, her pride and lofty attitude all but forgotten. She was voraciously shovelling tofu and crab roe into her mouth with one hand, while the skewer of fish in her other hand was quickly growing smaller. The tub of Crystal Shrimp was already a quarter gone, and Scaramouche had a feeling that, despite his advice, the mochi wouldn't last to see tomorrow.
"You know, even whales need to come up for air once in a while," he said, slowly rocking his chair as he sat across from Mona.
"Mm? Oh - ahem!" Mona hastily placed her hands on the table and righted her posture in an attempt to restore her dignity. It might have worked if she had cared to wipe the bright patch of crab roe off her cheek.
"I, um...skipped breakfast this morning. I was terribly busy," she said quickly. "Surely I'm allowed to be hungry by now?"
"Busy with what, staring at the clouds?" Scaramouche snickered. "I didn't know stars came out in the daytime."
"Hmph. Say whatever you want. As long as you keep paying for this stuff, the joke's on you."
"If you say so, Megistus. I have no intention to stop."
Mona didn't bother answering him this time. She lowered her gaze to her food and continued to eat, being mindful of her pace this time.
She frankly could have gone the rest of her life without seeing Scaramouche again, considering he had tried outright to kill the Traveler in front of her. And yet...she could not deny that she owed him after she had woken up from her daze that day on Stormbearer Mountains to find him carefully tipping a flask of Bamboo Shoot Soup into her mouth. Following that strange 'reunion', he had returned each week with a different array of top-grade dishes and expensive gifts, sometimes waiting next to Mondstadt's bridge if he could not find her at any of her usual stargazing spots.
Mona had passed off the events of their first encounter as him feeling nice enough to save a life on a whim. On the second week, she thought he was just mocking her. By the fourth week, holding a box of hot Jade Parcels and a new, gleaming silver telescope, she finally had to ask him what his deal was. His answer was the last thing she expected.
"Isn't it obvious, Megistus? I like you, and I like doing this."
Mona stared across her table at the person who had said those words, now looking out her window at the sky with a thoughtful expression. As twisted of a person as he was, she didn't believe he was lying - she could read the inner feelings of others, after all. But even so...
"You do realise I would never fall for the person you are now, right?" she said firmly. "You're evil, it doesn't matter how many gifts you get me."
"I don't need you to reciprocate these feelings," said Scaramouche, looking back at her. "I simply do what I want. I live by my own desires."
"And yet, you still answer to your Harbinger seniors in that Snezhnayan cult."
"The Fatui's goals and mine...align for the moment," he said slowly. "I am in no way bound to their foolish organisation. If our ideals ever happen to cross, I'd ditch them in a heartbeat."
"You're still probably a serial murderer."
"Yeah, probably." Scaramouche gave an obnoxious smirk.
For a moment there was silence, in which Scaramouche stared out the window again, this time at the large hotel down the road.
"Can I sleep with you tonight?" he said after a minute.
Suddenly, Mona vanished in a ripple of water and re-materialised on the other side of the table, standing over Scaramouche with her open palm arched over her head. The following slap was so powerful that Scaramouche was knocked off his chair, his hat falling onto the floor next to him.
"Ow!" he roared, pressing a hand to his stinging cheek. "What's your problem, Megistus?!"
"So that's your intention?!" Mona shrieked. "I'll have you know I'm not that desperate! With someone as terrible as you, I would never-"
"That's not what I meant, you fool!" Scaramouche yelled, jumping to his feet. "I have troops in Mondstadt to give orders to tomorrow! Can I stay at your place for the night?!"
"Oh." Mona lowered her hand, looking vaguely stunned. "Well - normally I'd say no, but seeing as I just slapped you of my own fault...make yourself at home."
"You have my thanks," Scaramouche growled, picking up his hat and not sounding thankful in the slightest.
"Hey, why don't you just stay at the hotel?" asked Mona, rubbing her stinging palm behind her back - why did it feel like she had just slapped solid metal? "The Fatui practically own the place, don't they?"
"I never sleep near my colleagues if I can help it," said Scaramouche. "Too many of them would jump at the chance to stick a knife in my back."
"Can't imagine why."
"What?!"
"Nothing," said Mona, turning away and heading to her bedroom. "Bathroom's on the left. Have a good stay."
Mona yawned drowsily as she rose from her sheets, feeling around for a lamp in the darkness - her schedule as an astrologist gave her a rather bad habit of waking up at terrible hours. Eventually she found a lamp, lit it, and followed the flickering light into her hallway.
To her surprise, Scaramouche wasn't in the living room. Mona frowned - the only other rooms she had were the bathroom and study, the latter of which was crammed full with bookshelves and practically impossible for anyone to sleep in.
Just to make sure he wasn't lying underneath her bed with a massive knife in his hands, she decided it would be best to go and find out where exactly he was.
She tried the study room first. Upon opening the door to the square cramped room lined with massive bookshelves, she found Scaramouche sleeping next to the only other piece of furniture present - a small round table, atop which sat a low-burning candle and a thick purple book that looked recently handled.
Mona's first thought was that Scaramouche was odd even in his sleep - with his back fully rigid against the chair, his head hanging limply forward and his massive hat still perched atop his head, he looked like a wooden doll that a child had left propped up against a wall.
Mona stepped closer, moving slowly so that the cheap floorboards wouldn't creak under her feet. She silently picked up the book he had been reading and flipped to its cover.
This is one of my books on Inazuman history, she thought to herself. She recalled how several moons ago, Fischl had addressed Scaramouche as a 'vagrant from Inazuma'. Is this guy feeling homesick or something?
She shrugged dismissively - it wasn't really in her interests to care. She replaced the book on its shelf, then turned to put out the candle. It was at this point she noticed that, even though the candle had to have been burning right next to him for at least a few hours, Scaramouche wasn't sweating at all.
Mona's hand hovered over the flame, glistening droplets of water coalescing in her palm. She raised her finger towards the flame...
She stopped, turning to stare at Scaramouche's sleeping form. A sudden idea had struck her.
It would benefit Mondstadt greatly to learn of the Fatui's secrets...she had a connection to the Knights through Albedo, she could secretly give them vital information. The Fatui loved to play nice behind their veil of diplomatic immunity, but anybody with a brain could tell they were plotting something. Once they finally moved forth with whatever madness they had planned for Teyvat, any inside information Mondstadt had could be crucial in ensuring her safety...
Mona brought her hand over Scaramouche's head and summoned her scryglass. It wasn't strictly astrology, but she knew how to combine her art and standard sorcery to produce vivid images of someone's past - and for someone like him, it was probably better to get the finer details...
Stars raced and glimmered across the surface of the scryglass as the water rippled softly. After a short while, the six brightest stars gathered into a constellation in the shape of a monstrous clawed hand.
The constellation pulsed and glowed in the middle of the scryglass as Mona commanded the water to swirl violently. Colours flashed across the rippling surface, and she caught glimpses of events that dated back days, months...
...centuries?!
Mona brought the spell to a halt, very sure that she had done something wrong. The swirl of colours ceased, the water grew still, and now she was looking into a massive, resplendent shrine that seemed of Liyuean or Inazuman origin, all through Scaramouche's eyes.
This is one of his earliest memories...? That can't be right...
Enamoured, she continued watching.
Her view through the scryglass shook slightly as Scaramouche moved forwards. Ahead of him was a great, towering staircase carpeted in purple and gold, and at the very top stood a bright-eyed, long-haired woman dressed in a lavender robe. Scaramouche made it to the bottom of the stairs and began to ascend with heavy, forceful steps.
"So that's it, then?" came his anguished voice through the scryglass, dripping with hurt and fury. "Thank you for nothing, goodbye, good luck?!"
"I don't understand why you're so surprised," said the woman calmly, fixing him with her inhumanly bright gaze. "You knew from the start that you were just a prototype, didn't you? I'm sorry, my puppet, but I simply have no use for you anymore."
"I was destined to carry out your will!" Scaramouche roared, lunging forward like a demented snake. "Even if you wish to deny me that right, you wouldn't make me a general, an enforcer, a mere foot soldier in your army?! You would cast me aside and leave me no place in your great eternal nation?!"
"There are no roles left that I need you to fulfil," said the woman, unmoved. "And to say that you have no place here is a falsehood. Have I not given you permission to live your life as you see fit?"
"I have no desire to live amongst fragile humanity! You might as well have destroyed me when I took my first breath!"
"It was from the kindness of my heart that I did not take you apart once I had made sure your technology worked. Now leave. You are disturbing the sanctity of my shrine."
"Not until you give me a reason! Give me a reason why that...simple, mindless lump of metal and circuitry is more worthy to serve as your vessel than I!"
"A foolish question. She is simply better than you."
Those words seemed to stab right through Scaramouche. He froze twenty steps from the woman, staring at the ground as his breathing grew heavy. Before he dropped his gaze, Mona noticed an object next to the woman - it was hidden underneath a shroud of white cloth, but it vaguely resembled a kneeling human.
"Your design is inherently flawed," came the woman's voice from ahead. "You would shatter if you tried to channel a fraction of my power. Your impulsive nature is unconducive to preserving eternity. The great extent of your sentience puts my will at risk of coming into conflict with yours."
Scaramouche didn't respond at first. He remained rooted to the spot, silent and unmoving - then, he started to laugh. The sound caused a chill to run down Mona's spine. It was a cold, humourless laugh that dripped of nothing but pain, spite, and hatred.
"Hahahaha...hahaha...ha...so that's how it is? I see, I see," said Scaramouche, his voice sounding more deranged than usual. "So, I'm being cast aside because I'm inferior, is that it? In that case..."
His gaze shot up towards a window on the wall of the shrine.
"...if I destroy that precious new puppet of yours, you won't be able to make that choice anymore, right?!"
He raised his hand, and there was a flicker of violet outside the window. A great bolt of lightning crashed through the glass, striking the ground in front of Scaramouche. The bright light vanished, and before him now stood a massive, gleaming claymore lined with black and gold, a large Electro symbol engraved into its hilt.
Scaramouche seized the blade with both hands and leapt into the air, instantly clearing the last twenty steps of stairs. He raised the blade over his head and roared. An ominous crackling could be heard as Electro energy coursed through his arms into the claymore. He brought the weapon down on the shrouded object...
...there was a flash of purple along with the sound of screeching metal. The light quickly faded, and Scaramouche let out a noise of frustration - the woman was standing in between him and the object, effortlessly blocking his strike with a blade of pure violet light, her eyes crackling with the same purple glow as her blade.
Scaramouche leapt back into the air, tossing his weapon aside. He brought his hands together at his hip, and the crackling noise started again. He gathered Electro energy into a sphere, and flung it at the woman...
...she vanished in a flicker of lightning, leaving nothing but a silhouette for the sphere to touch. In a blink of an eye she reappeared in front of Scaramouche, so close that he could see every spark flying from her eyes - and she grabbed his face.
Scaramouche's cries were muffled as he tried to pry the woman's fingers off him, but they refused to budge. Purple light engulfed the two of them, and suddenly they were no longer in the shrine - Scaramouche could hear wind and rain whistling around them as they floated in the air. Fighting strenuously against his opponent's grip just to look downwards, he saw below them the pool of electrified water at the base of Mt. Yougou.
His movements grew frantic as he tried ever harder to free himself...threads of purple light shot out of the woman's palm and dug into his face, and the resultant scream was heard by nobody...
Scaramouche felt his power being sealed away, both his elemental and physical energy receding deep into his body like an ocean compressed into a tiny flask. Within seconds he no longer had the strength to scream or maintain his grip, and his fingers slipped uselessly from the woman's wrist. He was left hanging like a doll from her hand, weaker than a wisp of air, his mind screaming for violence but hopelessly trapped inside his motionless body.
"When you wake, you will wander this land," said the woman. "Live alone, or seek out companions. Ally yourself with good, or turn to evil. What you do from now on is of no concern to me. But never come back to my shrine..."
Thunder rolled in the sky behind her as she spoke his name. At the sound of those five syllables, Scaramouche was overcome with despair, not because he knew he had lost everything, but because he knew he would never hear them again...
The woman released him. Her cold, indifferent face was the last thing Scaramouche saw as he fell, and with a resounding splash he plummeted into the violet pool below. His heavy and artificial body was quickly claimed by its depths, while the crackling water obscured his final glimpse of the Electro Archon...
"Enough!"
A blazing ring of lightning caught Mona by the stomach and threw her backwards. She collided with the shelf behind her and crumpled to the floor. Slowly, she lifted her gaze - Scaramouche was standing next to his overturned chair, lightning encircling his body like violet snakes, glaring at Mona with a terrible mix of horror and fury.
"Enjoyed your little show?!" he hissed in a deranged tone.
Mona got to her feet, breathing heavily. She was bursting with things to say, but no words came to her. All she could do was stare at the man before her, if 'man' could even be used to describe him anymore - he was greater than human, created in the realm of gods - yet also lower than any mortal, an artificial shell cast aside when he no longer served a purpose...
For a moment neither of them spoke or moved. Then, Mona took a step forward.
"Don't come near me!" Scaramouche yelled.
She quickened her pace.
"I said don't come near me!" he shrieked, jabbing a finger at her as the lightning around him grew louder. "If you dare - if you tell anyone, I'll kill you! You think I won't, witch?! You don't mean that much to me, I'll do it in a heartb-"
His screams were cut short as Mona leapt towards him, arms outstretched, and pulled him into a tight embrace.
The lightning's crackling ceased. Scaramouche stood frozen on the spot, his mouth split slightly open, staring at the bookshelf in front of him without truly seeing it. Mona's hands were warm on his back and neck, and he felt her slow rich breaths brushing against his shoulder, and her chest heaving with life against his own hollow hull. So far removed from everyone around him, Scaramouche felt like he was experiencing such humanity for the first time - this gesture, so full of raw, sympathetic emotion, felt so alien to him, yet like something he had been missing for countless years...
His body began to tremble. A sharp, rasping breath rose to his throat against his will, and within seconds he was doubled over in Mona's arms, as ugly erratic noises escaped from his mouth...his eyes were incapable of producing tears, but he was very much crying.
This went on for more than a minute. For that duration Mona continued to hold him, without interrupting Scaramouche's fevered groans and gasps. Only when he had calmed down and stopped trembling, did she speak.
"How long ago was that?" she asked.
"Five...five hundred years," Scaramouche said weakly.
"What did you do afterwards?"
"I wandered. Alone."
There was a short pause before Mona answered.
"I'm sorry."
"A pointless sentiment. None of that was your fault, you fool. You weren't alive back then."
"It doesn't matter. I, for all my pride as an astrologist, failed to see the malicious stars that hung over your soul. Had I known...I should have treated you better. I should have been more grateful."
"You're...you're not obliged to-"
"Shut up. I want to. And I'll start now." Mona pressed her head reassuringly against his neck. "I'm here for you, Scaramouche."
"My real name."
Mona glanced at him. "What?"
"Use...my real name. You know it. It's been...too long...since anyone's done that..."
Mona was silent for a moment. Then, she wrapped her arms a little more tightly around his shoulders.
"I'm here for you, Kunikuzushi."
The stars of Mondstadt's night sky shone brightly outside Mona's window, bathing one corner of the house in a deep blue hue. Scaramouche sat within the sea-like glow, staring up at the night sky with his hat propped against the table next to him. On normal nights he would be observing the stars with dislike and contempt, but on this night he lacked the energy for such emotions - or maybe he had simply already cried those emotions out.
A door behind him creaked. He looked over his shoulder, and saw Mona walking towards him with two mugs of hot tea in her hands.
She set the drinks on the table between them and sat down. She took a sip of her tea, then looked at Scaramouche and gestured towards the other mug expectantly.
"I can't drink," he said.
"It's not alcohol. It's those tea leaves you bought me last month."
"No, I can't drink." Scaramouche raised a finger to point at his mouth. "This thing doesn't lead to anything except a device that gives me my voice."
"Oh."
A slightly awkward look passed over Mona's face, which Scaramouche spotted. He wondered if she felt guilty for reminding him of what he was - as if he didn't already think about it every day.
"Don't give me that face. I've already come to terms with how I'm not human," he said. "It's not like I can't not think about it when I'm surrounded by humans every day."
"Well, you still have...thoughts, feelings, and everything, don't you?"
"That's about all I have."
"Right. Otherwise you wouldn't have..." Mona tilted her head towards her study room. "...just now."
Scaramouche turned to look out the window again.
Mona still had more questions. She hastily gulped down another mouthful of tea, then said, "That woman was the Electro Archon, wasn't she? The Raiden Shogun?"
Scaramouche didn't take his eyes off the night sky. "It's complicated."
Mona took that as a 'yes'.
"Why did you leave Inazuma?"
Scaramouche scoffed. "Why did I leave the nation of the god that abandoned me and stripped me of my power and my right? I applaud anyone who could stand living in a nation like that. And my dear creator is so paranoid about keeping the place closed off, it's such a pain to go back..."
"Do you want to go back?"
Scaramouche looked back at her in mild surprise. Somehow, he couldn't answer her question - he now realised that despite having asked himself the same thing over the centuries, he had yet to give himself a concrete answer. He lowered his gaze to the floor, and began to ponder the question for the first time.
He didn't know if his pensive silence lasted for one minute or ten, but after a while he spoke.
"Inazuma...is my only root to this world," he said. "What little identity I have is tied to that country. And yet I despise the place; she has changed drastically under the Electro Archon's rule. I have returned occasionally to do work for the Harbingers, but I've never considered a permanent return. I might still go back yet, if only things were a little different. Perhaps in another hundred years, after I've-"
He cut himself off. He looked mildly disturbed by himself, as if he had just wrested his mind out of a trance.
"I've said too much," he said hastily. "But I will confess to you this - I dislike how abruptly my creator severed ties with me, so I wish to speak to her just one last time."
Mona nodded in understanding. "I see. Then, I just have one more question."
"Do your worst."
"Your body - you being the way you are - is that why you don't trust the Fatui?"
Scaramouche glanced at Mona once more, narrowing his gaze sharply.
"Very perceptive, aren't you?" he said.
"It was just a hunch, but from that look on your face, I guess I'm right." Mona finished the last of her tea and continued, "The Fatui aren't exactly worried about flaunting their insane technology, you know? Even their foot soldiers have weapons made from systems that other nations can't comprehend - that kind of technology could have easily come from you."
Scaramouche had to take a moment to marvel at how fast her mind was able to make that connection. However, he frowned, and slowly turned his chair to face her.
"My technology and the Fatui's are fundamentally different," he said. "I can't go deeper into the details without jeopardising our entire organisation like an idiot - but you are right in saying that they know about my identity. And yes...that is why I don't trust them."
Scaramouche raised a hand to grasp the Electro symbol on his chest. Mona glanced at his face, and realised that he suddenly looked uncomfortable, perhaps even a little afraid.
"When I awoke all those centuries ago, my power was still weak. Even at my strongest, I was nothing compared to the Electro Archon. The Fatui wanted to mould me into an asset they could use, so they combined their technology with mine and pushed the absolute limits of magic and science - and then broke past those limits with reckless abandon."
He gave the symbol on his chest a twist. The circular plate came off into his hand, and his robe fell from his shoulders. Mona suddenly let out a gasp and leapt to her feet, staring wide-eyed at the sight that greeted her.
On Scaramouche's torso where a human heart would be, a massive luminous orb had been grotesquely fitted into his chest. Filled with eerie turquoise liquid and bearing the crest of the Fatui, the orb was terribly lopsided and had uneven rows of circuits running from its edges across his artifical skin, covering his entire front, as if his 'flesh' had been gouged out with a dagger to accommodate the unnatural modification.
"Il Dot - the Professor put this in me shortly after I joined the Fatui," he said, putting his clothes back on. "It's one of the many modifications he made to me. Even now, I still don't know what all the things he put in me are."
He suddenly turned his chair back around and returned to staring at the sky.
"I know I said I'd eventually betray the Fatui," he said. "But when that time comes, that man will be my first and most dangerous obstacle. He's utterly unhinged...he could probably kill me with a flick of a lever if he wanted to."
Mona had a feeling that Scaramouche had turned his chair around so that she wouldn't see his face. If so, his action had failed to achieve that effect. Mona could still see his reflection in the window, and she saw very clearly his lips trembling anxiously, and his eyes firmly fixed on the night sky, as if he was too afraid to look anywhere else.
Mona got up and dragged her chair over to the window beside him. She sat down and grasped his hand, making him suddenly look to the side.
Scaramouche watched as her fingers gently caressed the the back of his hand. He was sure that she could feel the cold metal underneath his false skin, but she didn't seem at all bothered by this. Then he looked up at her face - she too was now gazing at the stars above, with an expression of pure innocence and wonder. Wreathed in the night's blue glow, she looked even more mystical and pretty.
"Well, you know who I am," she said. "I am merely the great astrologist Mona. I can't give you an audience with the Electro Archon, and I can't beat up a Fatui Harbinger either."
She tightened her grip on his hand.
"But like I said, I'm here for you. If there's anything you want - anything at all - just say the word, and I'll do everything I can to help you obtain it."
Scaramouche stared at her for a few seconds, simultaneously amazed and amused by her ludicrous sentimality. Then, he lowered his gaze to the floor and let out a dry stale laugh.
"Anything I want? That sounds nice," he said bitterly. "But right now..."
He gently laid his head on Mona's shoulder and closed his eyes wearily.
"...all I want is a place to stay."