Your scars weren't the prettiest. It was as if someone had mangled hot candle wax with their fingertips.

Large gashes that'd turned to scar tissue covered half your face; a reminder of what once was. The scars seemed even more unpleasant.

Nikto, however, understood completely, as he had his own scars that told a story. And he'd make sure you were never insecure about yours.

A gentle but shaky hand comes to touch the side of your face; his fingertips gentle against your fragile skin.