"I know the sort." Wrath is far, far from the first troubled young man to stumble into Scar's life. He recognized as much in the homunculus boy immediately.
He thinks of Rick. He thinks of Leo. There is an ache in his chest, alongside the glitter of anticipation and possibility. He wishes he could have even a last moment with them to say good-bye. On most days, it's little more than a quiet ache among all the others. Tonight, it roils to the surface.
For a moment, more than anything, Scar wishes he could be home.
He gathers Lust closer beside him.
"We'll make certain of it," he murmurs into her hair. A moment follows in which he says nothing. Then, through the heaviness in his throat, gently amused, "I'm fixing his spelling."
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He thinks of Rick. He thinks of Leo. There is an ache in his chest, alongside the glitter of anticipation and possibility. He wishes he could have even a last moment with them to say good-bye. On most days, it's little more than a quiet ache among all the others. Tonight, it roils to the surface.
For a moment, more than anything, Scar wishes he could be home.
He gathers Lust closer beside him.
"We'll make certain of it," he murmurs into her hair. A moment follows in which he says nothing. Then, through the heaviness in his throat, gently amused, "I'm fixing his spelling."