Fresh from the shower and wrapped in clean sheets, Gabriel was lying on his stomach, elbows propped up as he traced the collection of scars and scratches on Kant's torso.
"How did you get all these?" His fingers ran over slim cut marks near the abdomen.
Kant glanced at the scar Gabriel stopped on. "Most are from earlier days. Fighting with knives. Always ended messy."
"And this one?" Gabriel had found a large white line, almost hidden by muscle.
Kant hummed, glancing at the scar as if it was nothing but a dirt streak. "Bullet graze."
Gabriel paused to imagine it, then moved on.
He stared at strange, round scars. At first, Gabriel thought they were vaccine scars, but there were too many. He was trying to figure out what those were, but Kant beat him to it.
"Cigarette burns."
Gabriel frowned. "What? Why?"
"Older kids at the organization sometimes messed with the young ones."
