That answer is complete and utter nonsense. However he looks at it, it seems that nothing is really adding up. For Childe to sacrifice the safety of his family like that. Humans are fond of each others families, just like he himself loved a family once. Hundreds of years ago.
Finally Scaramouche makes a gesture at the man who is busy fixing the holes in his back that he has to stop for a moment. He can see the man taking a small step back, his eyes shifting from what he was doing to Childe.
"Worry not, if everything works accordingly it will be over soon."
So he slowly slides off the bed and moves to stand. His legs seem to carry him without any problem and also his arms are restored to its old 'glory'. After taking a couple of steps he crouches down to pick up the toolbox so he can place it on the bed right next to him.
"I can fix my own joints." Scaramouche stays silent for a moment as he climbs back onto the bed, moving to sit right next so he can sort through the tools. "When they sent me out into the Abyss it is not always possible to return for reparations. You have to do them by yourself." As he speaks he is holding up a variety of tools, inspecting each and every one of them. There's a small hammer, some screwdrivers, pliers and an icepick. "Since you have made the choice to tie my purpose to your absurd thirst for battle..."
He places all the tools on the bed, neatly arranged, quite in a similar way the Doctor would. Yet, he holds on to the icepick. Eventually he scoots a little further on the bed and moves to sit sidewards. For a moment nothing happens. Scaramouche is just sitting there, holding an icepick and looking at Childe with a surprisingly calm look on his face.
"...I hope you have prepared yourself properly. I have never meshed really well with the other Harbringers..."
And suddenly, despite all the damage that is still left on his body, despite the fact that most of his power is gone, he moves swiftly. It is nothing but a blink of an eye. A mere second.
"...but I am sure you have taken emergencies like this into account. You are not that stupid, right?"
Scaramouche is sitting on his knees now, one hand resting on the Fatui agent's shoulder as he jams the icepick into the man's chest a couple of times. Right where the heart is and he knows very well that humans can't live without one.
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Finally Scaramouche makes a gesture at the man who is busy fixing the holes in his back that he has to stop for a moment. He can see the man taking a small step back, his eyes shifting from what he was doing to Childe.
"Worry not, if everything works accordingly it will be over soon."
So he slowly slides off the bed and moves to stand. His legs seem to carry him without any problem and also his arms are restored to its old 'glory'. After taking a couple of steps he crouches down to pick up the toolbox so he can place it on the bed right next to him.
"I can fix my own joints." Scaramouche stays silent for a moment as he climbs back onto the bed, moving to sit right next so he can sort through the tools. "When they sent me out into the Abyss it is not always possible to return for reparations. You have to do them by yourself." As he speaks he is holding up a variety of tools, inspecting each and every one of them. There's a small hammer, some screwdrivers, pliers and an icepick. "Since you have made the choice to tie my purpose to your absurd thirst for battle..."
He places all the tools on the bed, neatly arranged, quite in a similar way the Doctor would. Yet, he holds on to the icepick. Eventually he scoots a little further on the bed and moves to sit sidewards. For a moment nothing happens. Scaramouche is just sitting there, holding an icepick and looking at Childe with a surprisingly calm look on his face.
"...I hope you have prepared yourself properly. I have never meshed really well with the other Harbringers..."
And suddenly, despite all the damage that is still left on his body, despite the fact that most of his power is gone, he moves swiftly. It is nothing but a blink of an eye. A mere second.
"...but I am sure you have taken emergencies like this into account. You are not that stupid, right?"
Scaramouche is sitting on his knees now, one hand resting on the Fatui agent's shoulder as he jams the icepick into the man's chest a couple of times. Right where the heart is and he knows very well that humans can't live without one.