She hadn't considered any of these things before? But Scar left his cold logic unspoken, even pushed away. No home. No family, friends, or even a purpose. Those were exactly the thoughts that had circled about Scar's mind whenever he allowed it to wander. He had been rebelling against this place not for his own benefit, but for the others'. He truly didn't have anything to do with his life. He had devoted himself to vengeance, been willing to throw what little he had away because he couldn't bring himself to rebuild.

What was he supposed to do now?

Could he try it all again? Scar would never be able to truly leave it all behind, even if he gave it the most honest effort someone like him could manage. But he could live, couldn't he? Find some semblance of the normalcy he had so long been denied? His mind wandered to the photograph pressed carefully inside his journal. Scar wouldn't know if his brother was truly out there until he got some real answers about this place, but...

Was it selfish, that some part of him was relieved to know that she was staying? It was certainly strange. It wasn't so awful, when she was around, and Scar couldn't even deny that she understood him like nobody else truly could, simply because of who and what she was. She was a slap in the face and a soothing presence in the same moment. But, in a life that would soon be devoid of everything but a goose chase for a ghost in a photograph, she was someone. Maybe that was what mattered most.

A moment later, (Scar couldn't really say how long he stood there and thought on her words) he glanced away, suddenly remembering that he should say something, or at least move forward to the next room. He only managed a small nod, not even sure if she saw it. Strangely subdued, he finally opened the trapdoor that led to the third floor.

[To here]