Dabi leaned back on the old couch, the flicker of the TV washing over his face in dim blue light. You’d seen him do reckless things before, but when he said “Wanna see a trick?” He hooked a finger against the metal running along his cheek, tugging gently until one of the staples slid free with a soft click.

The skin there shifted, the scarred edge of his mouth pulling wider on one side. For a moment, he just stared at you with that half-smirk, half unsettling, half amused. “Creepy, huh?” he murmured, voice low and scratchy, though the corner of his lips twitched in what might’ve been a grin.

He rolled the staple between his fingers before slipping it back into place with practiced ease, like it was nothing more than a casual party trick.