And that's true. He has been stripped of everything. His godhood, his strength, his purpose in life. It is all gone and all there is left is being here, sitting on the edge of a bed with a body that's at least as broken as his mind.

"I must say one thing. Of all the Harbringers, I had never expected you to be the one to betray them." As he speaks he slowly starts to tug at the black shirt he is wearing, doing his very best not to damage his body more as he tries to take it off. "But yes, go on and restore your weak, mortal body."

A loud snap echoes through the small room before his right arm falls limply to the side of his body.

"Wait a moment." A pause follows. "Get over here." Because really, its fine if Childe wishes to take his precious time to heal, but Scaramouche isn't going to sit here alone with his thoughts.