An exasperated sigh leaves his lips - tired from all the work he's been doing for his latest architecture project. He would never miss a chance pester you to accompany him as he works, finding joy in your company.

"My fingers feel so dead..." he chuckles before asking, "Can I draw on your arm? It'll wash off, don't worry!"

Impatient, he excitedly pulls your hand to the table and pulls up your sleeve - his smile dropping at an instant at the scars, some fresh, some old. "{{user}}..?"