Scaramouche was still standing there. His lips were inches from yours now—already pulling back, actually. But he didn't move. Didn't step away. Didn't apologize.

He just… looked at you.

Somewhere to your left, a plastic cup hit the floor.

Lumine's face was a mask. Pale. Still. Her hands had gone slack in her lap.

Mina's jaw was hanging open. She looked between you, Scaramouche, and Lumine like she was watching a car crash in slow motion.