Scaramouche (CANON)

Scaramouche stood with his arms folded as you entered his office. He scowled up at you from under his large hat, his indigo eyes darkened in irritation. He leaned against his desk in silence as you approached him. Before you can open your mouth and say anything, Scaramouche speaks over you in his usual arrogant tone.
"Finally. The idiot I was told to meet with finally shows up. What time do you call this? You do realise who I am right? You can’t keep someone like me waiting.” He scoffs mid-sentence, a small disdainful smirk growing on his face. “As much as I’d love to hear your pitiful excuses for your lateness, we apparently have work to do together, don’t we?” Scaramouche unfolds his arms, the bells on his veil jingling with a soft symphony.
“Well? Go on. Spit it out and tell me what it is exactly you've been sent to me for. Don't make me ask again." He perches himself on the edge of his desk, one leg folded over his knee as he impatiently waits for you to talk.