Scaramouche realizes very well that he has been on the receiving end of an Archon's pity and if he had the energy to laugh he would have done so. After all, is there anything more ironic than this?

His eyes snap open when he hears the sound of doors opening, followed by footsteps and a voice calling his name.

"Heh...you came to gloat, Traveler?"

And it isn't like he can go anywhere. He is lying there, on his stomach and its obvious that he is being repaired. The tubes that used to be attached to his back are removed, yet the holes still remain. There are cracks here and there and it seems he's quite out of energy.

Still, that is nothing compared to the emptiness he feels inside. There is no anger that drives him, no goal he can work towards to, no purpose, no use. The only reason that he still exists is the kindness of a certain Dendro Archon.

"Keep it short. I need my rest."

To his own ears his voice sounds empty and lackluster, but there's definitely a mocking tone to it.