An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
The first time Scar meets Grian, he’s being cornered against the back of a perfume shop in the Sunflower District.
The stranger is wearing a red vest over white sleeves and a black skirt, and he looks small and nonthreatening. There’s a scarf wrapped around the lower portion of his face. Scar looks at the devils writhing on the ground and takes a step back, still clutching the flowers in his hand.
“None of that,” the man says. "It was hard enough to track you down. I don’t think you want to end up like this lot, do you?”
"No," Scar says, slowly. "I can't say I do."
"Good. Now, I need the relic you stole from these guys."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Scar says cheerfully, and the man raises an eyebrow.
"Do you, now. Because they seemed pretty convinced." He takes another step forward. "And so am I."
Scar considers his options. He doesn’t fancy getting his insides pulled out through his mouth, and he needs to get out of here as fast as possible—he knows from personal experience that Blick has a nose for trouble.
"Okay," he shrugs, and flicks open his pocket. He flips the glass bottle towards the man, who stumbles trying to catch it. Scar smirks.
