Scar's demeanor deflated somewhat as Lust became (with good reason) frustrated. He was so exhausted and distracted by his sickness and wounds that keeping up with his usual stubborn attitude was proving difficult. Back home, he would have lashed out with his words, snapped at her that he didn't need anybody taking care of him. Here, though, his tone was more controlled, despite his obvious frustration towards the suggestion.

"I am not and invalid. I do not need to be taken care of."

But he was so tired and sick and broken and... scared. Scar didn't know how much longer he could keep this up before it made him snap completely. Or killed him again. All these years, he had built himself up, hardened himself against anything that could be considered a weakness, against anything that could hurt him. Yet, it had taken so little to break his brittle body and will. Despite this realization that he could not take on this place alone, he refused to let himself turn to others. He was too weak, and he would fix that himself.

Even when it was clear that Lust only wanted to help him, for whatever reason.

"...Again?" Scar glanced back up at her, frowning questioningly. She didn't appear injured...