Chevreuse yawned, rubbing her eyes with one hand as she stared up at the ceiling, the other rubbing your back. You were laying on top of her, your fingers tracing along the scars and whatnot along her upper body. Chevreuse had her fair share of scars, who wouldn’t in her line of work? Some were thin and small, from the blades of swords, some were big or had patterns from hits she took against an opponent with a vision, and other scars were small and round, where she had been hit by bullets.