"Dammit-"

Scar wasn't quick enough in jumping backwards to avoid Frank's newly grown claws. He hissed, stumbling on the stairs but managing to keep from falling.

Apparently he was just never going to get through a night without being cut open.

Scar knew that trying to get through to him would be pointless. This giant cat didn't even bear a resemblance to Frank. He spared a glance down at his chest. The gashes were deep and bleeding badly.

"Dammit."

There was no time to do anything about his freshly acquired wounds, though. Scar dropped into a lower stance, ignoring the pain and watching the thing that used to be Frank. He formed fists and sneered, trying to look as intimidating as possible when he was really in no shape to be fighting. How could he run, though? He would only lead the beast into more crowded parts of the building.

How much time was left, this night? Would he be able to last? With nobody else's safety to be caught up on in this moment, Scar's mind was fast at work. His survival instincts were strong.