When Scar takes his oatmeal off the stove in the early hours of the following morning, his presence in the kitchen is almost serene. He's in his pajamas, still, an undershirt and printed pajama pants with their top half conspicuously absent. He's all but sneaked out of his room this morning for a matter of great importance that still... conflicts him, if he lets his mind linger on it.

But, if last night changed the lens through which he saw Gluttony's memory at all, it only further cemented just how critical the containment of certain truths is.

He sighs through his nose, scraping his breakfast out of its little pan with a wooden spoon.