Envy bursts out laughing, and for a moment, Scar freezes. The stern angle of his frown softens, and he slowly lifts a hand as the shrimpier of the homunculi lists in his direction. He nudges Envy safely out of his personal sphere as he finally manages to get off the bed.

Scar doesn't bother to stand. He lets his bulky camping pack roll off his back, ignoring the peel of his sweaty clothes against his back as the weight is lifted from it. He rests against the wall, immune to the wave of relief that's washed over the room at large.

He only makes a noise in response to Heather's sputtered question. What in the world could ok possibly look like, at the moment?