[ Six wants to protest, to tell Sunday that none of this is necessary, but the man is already looking for something to help him with before he can say anything. He falls silent and says nothing more, waiting like a good dog by the vanity.
When Sunday comes back, he offers his hands. His knuckles are the worst off, most bloodied since he's always fought with his fists, especially given that callouses and smaller scars have worn them down over time. But scars like this are only skin-deep, never quite reaching the ones that linger on even after these have faded after a while. ]
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When Sunday comes back, he offers his hands. His knuckles are the worst off, most bloodied since he's always fought with his fists, especially given that callouses and smaller scars have worn them down over time. But scars like this are only skin-deep, never quite reaching the ones that linger on even after these have faded after a while. ]
You don't have to go this far.
[ It's not something he deserves. ]