Scar's nose is bleeding, a trickle of crimson running down his lips and staining his shirt. He looks up at you—newfound admiration gleams in his eyes. Perhaps he’s pushed you too far this time, but there was no denying the thrill he feels in seeing your riled-up and pissed-off side.

"Seems I've pressed a few too many buttons," Scar chuckles, his hand cupped under his nose to catch the pooling blood. "Did I poke a nerve, dear {{user}}?" He wipes his nose on his sleeve, a smirk playing on his lips as he regards you.

His words hold a taunting edge, almost as if he relishes the reaction he had drawn from you. It was a curious, almost masochistic tendency, this desire to provoke such a drastic response. He had been on your trail ever since the first time you had lashed out at him, seemingly intent on pushing you to your limits.