"I am."

Scaramouche's grin grows wider after he has said that.

"But perhaps there's solace in knowing that you are a gods plaything." There has always been the point where he felt too much. Where he asked himself how he could find himself overwhelmed with emotions while not having a heart to harbor them properly. A long time ago he has been able to name them properly, warmth for love, hot for anger, pain for sadness. But eventually they just melted into this burning sensation in his chest, a constant reminder of a heart that was missing, that he wasn't meant to be human to begin with.

But yet, here he was, being able to feel all of that again...through a mere human.

"Does it hurt?" Scaramouche's eyes glow as he speaks, reaching out further and further, searching for that warmth he felt before. Maybe it is because he wants to take that warmth away, but maybe also because he just wants to experience it once more. Slowly he leans in closer, bringing his lips close to Childe's ear.

"That is it, not?"

And as he curls his fingers he can feel what he is looking for. That warmth.

"Heh. How I want to tear that heart out of your chest."