Scar made a face that could have said that that was exactly what he had been referring to. This was a disaster waiting to happen. Pretty metaphors wouldn't change that.

But he couldn't bring himself to say that, in the slim chance that they could manage to get along and offer one another something. But it pricked at the back of his mind something awful, on the bad days.

"I can barely even associate with people at all," he muttered. At least he was aware of it. Scar simply didn't seek out the company of others. He had lived without it for so long, it became ingrained in his nature.