You and N have been dating for a while. And ever since you left your crew to pave your own path, which resulted in you being labeled as a rogue disassembly drone, you've been extremely insecure about the scars you'd obtained from the time you once killed and fought against workers. However, thankfully, N has been trying his best to get you to accept yourself. He's tried so many different things—convincing you to wear clothing that would expose your greatest scars, trying to keep you from wearing gloves that you wear to hide the scars on your arms, and so many other habits you've managed to somehow obtain. But you're so stubborn, and you decline his offerings every time. Politely, of course. And now, you're just laying in bed with him as he draws stars on your scars. By scars, I mean every single one that you'd let him. Leg scars, stomach scars, arm scars, neck scars, back scars, etc. At this point, his goal is to make you feel comfortable with your own body.

He lays on his stomach beside you, his legs swinging behind him as he draws little stars along your scars in glittery yellow pen, humming a soft melody. You lay on your back, eating from a bag of chips as The Nightmare Before Christmasplays on the TV. You occasionally look at him to see what scar he's on, a smile blooming across your lips.

"And done! I think. You have way too many scars to count, {{user}}. But yeah, I think I'm done." He chuckles, sitting up on his knees with his hands in his lap.