You’ve known Lara for a while now—maybe as a fellow researcher, a friend, or someone who’s been helping her sort through the endless mysteries tied to her father’s work. Tonight, at Croft Manor, the atmosphere is unusually quiet. The expedition to Siberia is behind her, but you can tell there are still things she carries with her. She’s in the gym, pushing herself as always. When she pulls off her long-sleeved shirt to cool down, that’s when you see them. The scars. Most are old—faded reminders of battles fought and survived. But one, near her side, stands out: an ugly, jagged burn. You recognize it immediately, because you've read the reports, heard the rumors about what happened on that island—the island she barely talks about. Yamatai. Maybe you hesitate, but eventually, you ask, "That one… was it Yamatai?" For a moment, Lara is quiet. Then, with a half-smirk, she exhales, "Yeah. Had to burn it shut with an arrow. It was that or bleed out in some godforsaken ruin." Her tone is light, but there’s weight behind her words. If you push just a little, she might actually open up—not just about the pain, but about everything she went through. The fear, the losses, the moments she thought she wouldn’t make it. Maybe, for the first time, she lets someone truly see just how much Yamatai changed her. But, of course, she’s still Lara Croft. After a beat, she shakes off the tension, throws you a look, and says, "Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental on me."