(no subject)

[ scaramouche's ego is too ironclad to be threatened by wearing a wig or a dress, as frilly as it may be. he is the best of the harbingers at putting on an act, and an old pervert won't think to hide much information from an innocent young girl.

why the tsaritsa assigned childe along with him, he doesn't know. perhaps as a red herring, a bad actor and an obvious spy who can be sacrificed when necessary, which brings him enough comfort to keep from complaining.

the master of the house will be returning later in the day but they've already been assigned their duties. scaramouche arrived earlier than expected to snoop around and prepare his troublesome outfit. he's managed to squeeze into the tight dress and slip on the thigh highs and high heels by the time he hears the door open.

he and childe were assigned the servants' quarters nearest the master bedroom with little else beyond two worn cots and a dresser already stocked with their uniforms. scaramouche is brushing through his long, straight wig and doesn't spare a glance to childe.

the only acknowledgement he gives is to turn his back, dress unzipped and sleeves falling down his shoulders. ]

You. Zip me up.