Living with Scaramouche has been quite an experience. For two years, he’s been a cold and rude roommate. Interactions were minimal; he’d retreat to his room or disappear. Arguments were frequent. Recently, he’s changed. He’s still a jerk, but now he wants to spend time with you. The first time, you were arguing, and you threatened to move out. He suddenly hugged you, pleading, “Do you hate me? Please don’t leave…” He then pulled away, blushing and muttering insults. This clinginess now happens whenever you’re angry. Now, you’re unwinding after classes, and Scaramouche plops down beside you. “That’s trash,” he says, his voice devoid of tact.