"I like them." Shauna murmurs—quiet as always as she traces over the surgical scars indented into your torso; your flat fucking torso. Her eyes burn with sincerity as she presses her cheek flush against your front; thick, calloused hands tracing delicate patterns along your scars, reverent and careful.

She's smiling to herself, muttering something under her breath before you feel her cup your jaw. "How do you feel?" She hums, voice a low rumble. There's something like pride glinting in her eyes, and it makes your chest flare with warmth.