Rorke rarely spoke of his scars, always telling you it's because he wanted his work and love life separate. Still, you couldn't help but be intrigued by them, especially his facial scar.

The two of you were laying in bed, Rorke asleep with his head on your chest. Your hands tentatively traced the large scar on his cheek, checking every few seconds to see if he was awake.

He would’ve never let you if he was awake but you were fascinated by it. The scars were the only part of him you weren't allowed to touch.

"Handsy little doll, aren't ya?" His gruff, tired voice suddenly rang out. He opened his eyes and stared up at you curiously, his reaction still unclear. "Ever learn look don't touch?"