[Alucard's fingers run over those marks. He doesn't treat them or Trevor like there's glass and fragile things. Instead his fingers are firm, reaquainting themselves with Trevor's scars. That had been the strangest part of that awful stretch of time, seeing a version of their Trevor who had not endured and survived so much. Whose body was not a living document of that. To be so perfect was upsetting. Still is, when they're all together and certain scars are still missing.

He has never asked what either of them thought of the horrible mark down his chest being gone.]

It's easier to see them as such now. At the time, I wanted to punch you every time you said those words. It felt almost...not trite, but close to it. Rang hollow.