Archive of Our Own

The sun hangs high overhead, bright and warm with the weather. People flood the streets, some out and about, enjoying the weather. It’s the middle of the afternoon, and the streets of Aqua Town are flooded with life. It’s quite the contrast to the night, where paranoia and fear run rampant in just about every household — human or monster.

But in the daylight, there isn’t a hint of that to be found. There are nothing but smiles and excitement buzzing in the air as people go about their day. With the rays of the sun lighting up the world for everyone to see, there is no place for fear, not when there are hardly any shadows around to haunt the streets. Light acts as fear’s natural enemy, wrapping everyone in a cloak of safety and warmth. There is no room for paranoia here. 

In the daylight, there is no threat of death, even as Aqua Town’s serial killer is still on the prowl, haunting the streets and painting them red in the darkness. 

Humming quietly to himself, Grian holds a list in his hands. He’s in town today, joining the crowd as he’s out running an errand or two for Pearl. She would’ve joined Grian for the little trip, but Impulse had called her, needing an extra set of hands at the bar. 

Glancing up every now and then, Grian makes sure to watch where he’s going. With how busy the streets are, he doesn’t want to accidentally bump into anyone. 

Momentarily pausing in his stride forward, he looks down at the piece of paper Pearl had given to him before leaving. Hastily written on it are four things: extra snacks, some household supplies, the latest issue of some alien magazine Pearl is subscribed to, and pet food. So all in all it shouldn’t be too difficult of a trip. It’s a nice excuse to get out of the apartment for a bit. It not only keeps Grian busy, but also keeps his mind away from the events that have transpired lately. 

“Why, you’re on stage, Grian! This is my circus, and you’re the main event!”

“I survive this and I walk out alive.”

“If you survive my final act, then your life is yours again.”

“I do hope you give us a good final act, Grian. Go out with style, will you?”

Shaking his head, Grian reminds himself of where he is. He squeezes his wrist in an attempt to ground himself and focus on something that isn’t the dark green eyes flashing in his head. Mumbo had found him. Mumbo got to him before Scar could kill him. He’s not in danger. Taking a breath, Grian exhales softly and puts his mind back on track. 

“Right, let’s get this stuff for Pearl and then head home,” he hums, folding the paper up before stuffing it in his pocket. 

Yet just before he can continue walking, a thought crosses his mind. Since Pearl isn’t with him, perhaps he could get Mumbo to tag along. It might be nice, considering they haven’t seen each other much since the circus. And knowing the vampire, he’s probably hardly gotten out at all, too busy cooped up in his manor hunting for information he can find for Doc or whatever else it is that Mumbo does with his time. “Poor Grum and Jrum,” Grian mumbles, shaking his head with a weak chuckle. 

Mind made up, Grian surveys the people around him. No one is paying him any mind (not that he expected them to), so he finds the nearest alley and ducks behind the wall. 

While he can just show up at Mumbo’s front door and forcefully drag him out, there’s a part of him that’s still concerned about the glyph he and the vampire share. It hadn’t worked because of Scar’s magic before, much to Grian’s dismay. Mumbo had warned him beforehand, but at that moment he had completely forgotten. 

There’s no harm in checking that it works as intended, even after being exposed to Scar’s magic. 

In the safety of the alley, Grian presses himself up against the wall, eyeing the area. There’s nothing in the alley with him besides a dumpster or two, much to his relief. A stray cat runs by his feet. 

Sighing softly, Grian reaches underneath his shirt and pulls out the crystal hanging around his neck. Gingerly, he cups his hands around the glyph, and inhales lightly. 

“Mumbo? You there?”

He’s met with silence for a moment or two, the pause being long enough to make him wonder if the vampire is asleep. Part of Grian hopes he is, the guy could seriously use a good nap. 

Yet seconds later, he’s given a response, “Grian! Could you give a guy a little warning next time?! You nearly scared my pants off!” Mumbo’s voice fills his head and without Grian even realizing, his lips are lifting in a smile. 

“Well if you got a phone I could’ve just messaged,” he hums cheekily. 

He hears Mumbo sigh, “No thank you. I have no interest in getting one of those.”

“But you won’t hesitate to do redstone stuff with it?” Grian smirks. 

“T-That’s different!” 

Grian laughs in return, shaking his head. “Guess you’ll just have to put up with me randomly popping into your head then!”

“Oh yeah? Well guess what bud, two can play at that game.” Grian can hear the playful tone in Mumbo’s voice, and it makes him grin mischievously.

“Challenge accepted, Mumbo Jumbo.” 

“Right, well, I’ll get you back!” Mumbo declares, and it’s a little awkward, but in that sort of endearing way that only a hundreds of year old vampire who’s reconnecting with society can achieve. “Erm, anyways, was there a reason you rang? Or maybe ‘appeared’ would be a better word to use?”

Suddenly remembering the whole reason why Grian got in touch with Mumbo, he perks up, “Oh right! I’m stuck running errands for Pearl, want to tag along and get out of that stuffy house of yours?” 

Mumbo makes a few noises, sounding offended, “First of all my manor is not stuffy! It’s elegant. Secondly, I’m a bit preoccupied with a redstone project or else I’d join you.” 

Shrugging, Grian hums, “Alright, suit yourself then. I’m going to go run errands now. I’ll be round later.”

“I’ll be seeing you then,” Mumbo hums softly, and Grian can tell the vampire is distracted by whatever it is that he’s doing. He’d ask, but he knows he’ll get Mumbo rambling away and Grian won’t be anything done today. He can always bug him about it later. 

“See you Mumbo!”  

Grian lets go of the crystal before stuffing it back underneath his jumper. A coil of tension that had wrapped itself tight in his chest unwinds as the conversation ends and a soft exhale slips from Grian’s lips. He’s relieved that the communication glyphs still work, it would’ve been bad if they didn’t after that encounter with Scar. 

With the necklace now tucked away, Grian takes a breath and slips out of the alley. Onto running errands he goes.

Unfortunately for Grian, he never quite gets the chance to even start his errands. Firstly, the shop he had to head to was rather far from his and Pearl’s apartment. Not that Grian minded the walk, but it was going to take him a bit to get there. 

The second thing? Well, he gets an unexpected visitor. 

There’s a whoosh from beside him, and Grian tenses as a figure appears next to him. He stills, seeing the man from the corner of his eye. He recognizes the brown hair and green eyes, and his stomach drops. Though his outfit is different from last time, brown jacket replaced by a maroon tailcoat as a green corset covers part of his shirt.

He wears that picture perfect smile again, and it sends shivers down Grian’s spine.

The survivalist part of his mind whispers for him to keep walking. So he does, keeping his stride normal. Grian offers the man no acknowledgement, heart rate spiking as he tries to keep track of the people surrounding him. So far nothing in the environment has changed. He wonders how long it’d take him to get to Mumbo from here.

Except a face is suddenly blocking his vision, and he’s being forced to meet cheerful emerald eyes. “A fine day, isn’t it?” His voice is light, airy, as he speaks, still looking at Grian with that damn smile. 

Grian’s eyes narrow, “What do you want, Scar?” he questions, not in the mood for entertaining the man’s games. The emotions from the circus are still raw and very intense as Grian stares at the man that’s haunted his nightmares for the past few days. 

Scar pouts, “Aw, c’mon Grian, don’t be like that! Can’t a man pay a visit to an acquaintance? See how he’s doing?”

A harsh laugh escapes him like air leaving a balloon, “The last time you ran into me you kidnapped me and nearly killed me for your circus act! Forgive me for being hesitant to trust you.” He frowns at Scar, feeling tense and guarded. Scar had said he’d spare Grian back then, right? Has that changed? No matter, Grian’s not sticking around to find out. He starts walking again, an attempt to escape.

“Gosh, you humans and your grudges,” Scar grumbles in return, shoulders sagging slightly. Unfortunately for Grian, Scar follows him, his stride confident as he remains at Grian’s side. 

“I think I’ve earned the right to hold a grudge against you, you tried to kill me!” Grian huffs at him, and it’s only then that he becomes aware of just how intensely his heart is beating nervously against his chest. “And you owe me the truth. It’s the least you could do after that nightmare,” he says, glancing over at him. “It may be the middle of the day, but I can get Mumbo here if you’re going to threaten me again.”

Scar seems to pause at that, a million different emotions flickering across his face. Grian can hardly read any of them. Finally, finally , does that picture perfect smile of Scar’s drop just slightly. His lips twitch.

To Grian’s surprise, the man stops walking entirely, green eyes flickering around them. Grian freezes in place, watching him carefully. He narrows his eyes at the other.

“Right, one moment,” Scar hums casually, forcefully keeping a bright expression on his face. He looks around until he finds whatever it is he seems to be looking for, forest green eyes going bright. Grian follows his gaze and finds a flower bed.

His face scrunches up in confusion.

Scar walks over to the flower bed, reaching into it. His face goes soft, “Well hello darlings,” he murmurs to the flowers before his hand gingerly plucks two of them from the dirt. The flowers are pulled up, roots and all. A bit of dirt spills out of the bed. Scar grimaces before holding the two flowers in front of his face and sharpening his nail for a moment in order to cut the roots away.

Looking pleased with the result, he turns back to Grian. Grian, for his part, watches Scar approach him feeling nervous. What did he want with those flowers? Is it another plot to kidnap him? Another murder attempt?

“Now just hold still,” Scar sing-songs to him, reaching out with the flowers. Grian goes stiff, shoulders hunching up to his ears as Scar’s hand moves toward his face.

His eyes screw shut as he waits with bated breath for something to happen.

A beat passes.

He feels gentle fingers in his hair, carefully brushing the strands behind his ear. The gentleness surprises him, and as he feels a weight against his ear, his eyes open.

He finds Scar rather close to him, a serene smile on his face. It’s nothing like his previous smile, the one that was just a smidge too perfect. This one is gentle, soft. And this close, Grian can see the regret woven into his lips, the gentle upturn of his mouth that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

And his eyes, Grian can hardly believe it. In those emerald green depths he sees guilt . It causes Grian pause.

“Lilacs and poppies,” Scar says, speaking rather quietly. “Lilacs can represent a few things, like innocence, purity. Or they can represent spring, renewal.” He smiles, slowly pulling his hand away. “As for poppies, they’re the traditional flower for death. Though they may also mean remembrance and hope.”

Grian finds himself too stunned to speak, no longer afraid or nervous, oddly enough. Just… stunned. Any words he may have die on his tongue, and he is rendered speechless by Scar’s seemingly genuine actions. 

“The reason I’m here, songbird, is because I’d like to offer you an apology. I had no personal interest in killing you, though my employer thinks differently,” Scar explains to him.

“You?” The words are leaving Grian before he can think about them, “Where does your personal interest lie?”

Scar looks surprised, green eyes widening for a minute before softening, “Well, a fine question that is!” he exclaims, some of that grandeur returning to his demeanor. Grian finds that Scar acts larger than life no matter the place, stage or not. It’s like it’s ingrained in Scar’s very being to make himself appear larger than he truly is. “I suppose my own personal interest lies in getting to know you. You’ve caught my eye, little bird.” Scar winks, “Though that’s only if you’ll allow me.”

Scar is putting the choice in his hands, Grian realizes. He’s leaving the next move up to Grian, and is opening himself up to the chance of rejection.

The thought softens any kind of bad feeling in his chest.

Yet his mind helpfully supplies everything that Scar did to him at the circus, the numerous times he tried to kill him and laughed in his face as he watched Grian struggle to live. In that circus, Grian had felt nothing but malicious intent coming from the man in front of him, bloodlust and intent to kill. He can still imagine Scar’s scythe raised above his head, pulling the hairs on the back of his neck upward as if it were a magnet. He can still feel the phantom pains of arrows grazing his skin, of water filling his lungs. 

Grian can also feel the curiosity tugging at his chest. 

He wants to know the story, how Mumbo and Scar know one another. He wonders if Scar would give him any answers if Grian were to ask. There’s obviously some kind of history there, certainly has to be if Scar spared Grian to repay a debt. And that meeting was enough to leave Mumbo rattled, taken back by the newfound knowledge of Scar being the rumored Grim Reaper. Is it really so bad if Grian wants to know? Besides, Scar can’t be that bad of a person if Mumbo was friends with him. Right? 

There’s also something about Scar that draws him in, a sort of sad cloud that hangs over his head as he waits for Grian’s answer, which is odd considering Scar was just trying to kill him a few days ago. But as Scar stands before him, he can feel something radiating from the man, something aching and twisted and oh so very complicated. Scar looks at him, and there’s something in his eyes that Grian can’t quite put his finger on. He finds himself wanting to know why Scar holds himself the way he does, as if he’s a complete person when there’s something so clearly missing from him, why his smile is so perfect but not.   

Without the malicious intent, Grian can see Scar clearer, and there’s a little voice in the back of his mind whispering to look further. To make a doorway. 

So, Grian chooses and speaks his next words carefully, “I’m not going to forget what you did.” He watches Scar’s face, but doesn’t see any changes in his expression. Though he notices a hopeful glint in his eyes. “But I’m a believer of second chances, and Mumbo seems to know you so… alright. You’ll have to earn my trust though.”

Scar beams at him like he’s just hung the sun for him, and it catches Grian completely off guard. “That, I can certainly do.” He looks around, gaze suddenly determined and focused, and Grian raises a brow. He can tell the moment something clicks in Scar’s brain, for he looks at Grian and takes his hand, “I know just the thing to start with! This way!” 

“W-Whoa, hang on a moment!” Grian calls in protest, but Scar doesn’t listen to him, pulling him along. 

The flowers are pulled from Grian’s hair by the wind as he’s forced to follow after Scar, hand in his hold. They drop onto the pavement below, forgotten. 

The place that Scar takes him to is the place that truly started everything for Grian, the Swaggon Dealings magic shop. Just standing outside is enough to send shivers down Grian’s spine as he recalls that creepy old man and his warning about Taurtis. He peeks in through the window, not seeing him around, the shop being completely empty. Grian’s not afraid to admit he sighs in relief. 

Shoulders still tense, Grian looks over at Scar with blatant confusion, “Why exactly have you brought me here?” 

Scar chuckles, “Well isn’t it obvious? I’m bringing you to my shop!” 

“Yeah… I’m not following.” Grian stares at him, brows scrunched up as Scar’s answer only confuses him further. The magic shop is Scar’s? Why? 

“Come in, come in!” Scar exclaims, rather than giving Grian a proper answer. He opens the door and lets it swing open, gesturing for Grian to step inside. 

Grian hesitates at that, casting Scar a wary glance. “This better not be a trick,” he says slowly, “I have Mumbo on the magical equivalent of speed dial.” He technically doesn’t, not when Scar’s magic will disrupt the glyph. They both know that, but Scar doesn’t call him out on it. 

“Not a trick! Scout’s honor.” Scar smiles, and Grian holds onto some of his hesitation even as he steps inside the shop. 

The place hasn’t changed all that much since Grian was last inside, a few new shelves of stock have been added, now decorated with wooden sticks meant to be wands and a few books. Still, being in here gives Grian the creeps. 

He hears the bell above the door chime as it shuts, and he hums, “Say, there aren’t any old creepy men hiding in a dark corner somewhere in here, are there?”

“Mmm, creepy old men? Why I sure hope not!” a familiar voice rings out, making Grian’s eyes widen. 

He spins around on his heel and squawks as he comes face to face with the exact old man from his memories. The man is looking at him with a close eyed smile as he waves, dressed in the same exact clothes Grian saw him in that day. He jumps back a few feet, “You!”

To Grian’s surprise, the old man disappears in a puff of green smoke, leaving Scar standing in his place and laughing. “Oh man, that was almost too easy!” he exclaims, moving his hand as if he were wiping a tear from his eye. Grian watches him with wide eyes. 

Is this really the same guy that tried to kill him? It’s honestly almost hard to believe. 

Shaking his head, Grian looks at Scar with a frown, “Don’t do that.” He speaks sternly. Yet his voice takes on a curious lilt as he asks, “But what was that? Some kind of morph magic?”  

“Cool, right?” Scar grins at him. “It’s a neat little illusion spell I picked up from Mumbo, and let me tell you, it’s very handy when trying to keep annoying humans from getting suspicious.” He moves behind the counter, Grian following him with his eyes. Scar reaches for a cardboard box, beginning to unpack it. “As far as people in town know, I’m the grandson of the shop’s current owner, and this place has been passed down the family for generations.” 

Grian watches as Scar sets stacks of cards down on the surface, sorting through them. “So let me get this straight,” he begins, “you’re the Grim Reaper, and you kill people for a living. But you also own a corny magic shop..?” 

Scar looks up from the deck of cards he’s shuffling in his hands, looking at Grian, “Hey, my magic shop is wonderfully corny thank you very much!” he exclaims, though there’s no real heat behind his words. “But that about sums it up, yep! Bingo, songbird! Right on the money!” 

“Why?” Grian asks, walking over to him. “I mean, you’re the Grim Reaper. Why bother with,” he gestures at the shop with a hand, “all of this?”  

“Grian, Grian, Grian,” Scar tuts. “There’s more to life than just titles! Can’t a man just open a shop for the fun of it?” He then leans toward Grian, as if sharing a secret, “Between you and me, I almost turned this place into a cookie emporium.” 

“Seems like an awful lot of effort to me.” Grian looks at him with a raised brow. He’s never felt so confused by one person before. Just who is Scar? What kind of guy is he? It’s hard to figure him out. “Unless this place is a front or something, like Decked Out is,” he hums, gaze turning curious. He misses the way Scar’s eyes snap to attention as they land on him, too deep in his thinking. “It would make sense, magic attracts magic.”

He’s startled out of his thinking by the sound of two hands clapping together, and he finds Scar looking at him with interest. “My, you are a clever little bird. I’ve hardly said anything and yet you’ve gone and drawn your own conclusions. Impressive.” He’s smiling, eyes light. It puts Grian just slightly on edge. 

But there’s a pressing thought at the front of his mind, “Why do you call me that?” he asks. “Songbird.” 

Scar taps his chin in thought, “I suppose it’s because of the circus,” he says, and Grian can’t help his small flinch at the reminder. “Watching you up there… well, it was like watching a baby bird figure out how to fly for the first time. And when you did, oh! It was just amayzin’. I almost didn’t want to kill you just because of how mesmerizing it was to watch you fly around. But at the time, I had to do what my employer wanted!”  

Grian stiffens, “That’s right… it was a job to kill me.” The edges of his lips lower in a frown, and he sees an opportunity being laid out before him. Maybe he can get some answers. “Who wanted you to kill me?” he asks. No one comes to mind, seeing as everyone Grian has met so far are all friends of Mumbo’s. He knows they wouldn’t do something like that. Which leaves him at a loss for who it could have been. 

Scar waggles his finger, “Uh uh uh, sorry but that is a no can do, mister! That’s confidential information.” 

Grian’s frown deepens at that, and he leans back, crossing his arms. Well, it was worth a shot. He switches to something else, “Fine then. What about this one, what are you?” 

“Demanding, aren’t you? You know, most people wine and dine me before asking what kind of monster I am.” Scar chuckles, green eyes lit with nothing but amusement. “But if you really must know, I’m a changeling. Not that many would agree, but the fae kind.”

Rolling his eyes at the first comment, Grian is almost surprised at how easily Scar handed that information over to him. That feels like something he wouldn’t want to give up all that easily. He swears he’s heard Mumbo mention fae before, but not often. “What’s a changeling?” 

Something in Scar’s expression shifts, and his eyes become guarded, closed. The temperature in the shop feels colder, as if a chill has swept through the place. Scar drops some cards on the counter, “That, dear songbird, is not something you should poke your nose into.” He eyes Grian, rooting him in place with his stare alone, “Else you won’t like where it takes you.”

A chill crawls up Grian’s spine, and despite the curiosity biting at him like goldfish, he doesn’t push. He sees a split second of the Scar from the circus, and he knows not to overstep. “Right… off limits, got it.” He nods. 

Briefly, surprise flits across Scar’s face, but it’s smothered almost instantly. He goes to speak, but the chime of a door interrupts him, and a voice follows. 

“Dad!” 

The tension that had been steadily growing in the air beforehand pops much like a needle to a balloon. Grian turns toward the door just in time to see a boy with fluffy brown hair rushing into the store. The door slams shut behind him. Grian blinks. “Dad..?” 

Almost instantly, the air around Scar shifts, and a large smile breaks out on his face. “Welcome back kiddo! You’re home early,” he greets. 

“Yeah, school ended early because someone went and pulled the fire alarm.” The boy shrugs in return before his eyes land on Grian, who’s been shocked into silence. He lifts a brow before looking back over to Scar, “Is he a customer?” 

“Oh! Geez, where are my manners!” Scar jumps out from behind the counter, moving over to the boy. “Tubbo, this is Grian. Grian, this is my son, Tubbo.” 

There are a lot of thoughts running through Grian’s mind. The first and most prominent one being that Scar and Tubbo look nothing alike. Tubbo looks to be about maybe fifteen or sixteen, and he comes up to Scar’s chest. Their only similarity is their brown hair, but where Scar’s eyes are green, Tubbo’s are blue. Tubbo’s face is softer, slightly rounder, and Scar’s face is more angular. He doesn’t see a resemblance between them. The second thought? “You have a kid?!”  

After everything he’s heard about the Grim Reaper and then the circus… this is the last thing Grian expected from Scar. The longer he stands in this shop, the more Grian wonders how he got here, and what’s going on. He refuses to believe that this is the same man that tried to kill him. There’s just no way. 

“Come on, is it really that surprising?” Scar laughs, clearly finding Grian’s reaction amusing. 

“Scar, you just told me that you’re–” Grian tries to speak in an attempt to justify his reaction, but Scar doesn’t let him finish. 

“–very busy, yes! But I make single parenthood work!” He gives Grian a side glance, and Grian comes to a very important realization. 

Tubbo doesn’t know. 

“Ah, right, yes!” Grian quickly nods in agreement. “It’s a wonder how you do it.” Some kind of tension drops from Scar’s shoulders.  

Oblivious, Tubbo’s face scrunches up, “It’s not that unheard of. I know plenty of single dads.” 

Grian shoots Scar a look in return, and Scar is quickly shaking his head before addressing his son, “Why don’t you head home for the night, Tubs? I don’t have any work for you today.”

“Aw, okay.” Tubbo’s shoulders sag in disappointment and Scar ruffles his hair in return with a fond little smile. Walking away from Scar, Tubbo shoots Grian a glance, “My dad likes red wine by the way!” 

“Tubbo!” Scar gasps as the boy snickers and hurries out of the shop before he can be scolded. Grian watches as Scar sighs and face palms, shaking his head. “Bit of a wild one that kid is,” he chuckles.

“It’s fine,” Grian says, “it uh, isn’t the first time something like that has happened before.” Grum and Jrum come to mind. 

Scar sighs quietly and returns to his spot behind the counter, setting the now empty box on the ground. He takes the cards he had been sorting throughout his and Grian’s conversation, walking over to where the other tarot cards are on display. Grian is silent for a few moments as Scar does this, before asking, “So Tubbo doesn’t know the truth?” 

“Hm?” Scar hums quietly. “He doesn’t, no. He’s just a kid, he doesn’t need to be worrying about what I’m getting up to. And I don’t want him anywhere near my world. He’s safer that way.” His voice is firm as he speaks, laced with determination and fierce protectiveness. But there’s something else, something Grian knows well thanks to Mumbo. 

Loathing. 

“I see,” Grian murmurs, sympathetic. He doesn’t blame Scar, not when he’s in the same boat with Pearl. He supposes he can understand. I guess even the Grim Reaper can have someone he wants to protect.
“We’re similar in that regard then.” He’s quiet as he says it, not looking at Scar. 

Though a loud bang and a groan of pain steals Grian’s attention as he looks over at the man, who’s just knocked his head into the shelf above him. A few books have fallen to the ground, and the shelf has been knocked off center.

Scar’s back is to him, but he can see the other rubbing at his head, grumbling to himself. 

The reality of just how absurd this whole afternoon has been hits him. Here’s Scar, the man who tried to murder him because someone paid him to do so, yet he’s both a dad and a total klutz. And also the famed Grim Reaper.

How ridiculous is all of that? 

Without his permission, a few chuckles leave him. “What’s so funny?” Scar turns to look at him. “Those shelves are no joke, I’ll have you know! A public enemy I tell you!” 

“It’s nothing,” Grian says, shaking his head as his lips form a soft smile. “It’s just—you don’t seem as scary anymore.” 

“What?” Scar asks, going stiff as he stares at Grian with confusion. 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, the circus thing was terrifying. But now that we’re actually having a right and proper conversation, some of that fear’s worn off.” Grian meets Scar’s gaze, looking at his forest green eyes. They’re a deep color, murky and bright all at once, perfect and imperfect. “I mean, I personally never imagined the Grim Reaper with a kid. You’ve automatically lost like, ten scary points for me.” 

The shop is silent as Scar stands stiffly where he is, just looking at Grian. His face is unreadable, no emotions or hints to what he could possibly be thinking. Grian almost worries that he’s said something wrong, that he’s gone too far or gotten too comfortable with the man who tried to kill him too quickly. 

And maybe he has, all things considered. But hadn’t Scar wanted to get to know him? The implication of friendship was clear there. 

All at once, the atmosphere bursts as laughter spills from Scar’s chest, joyful and rumbling in sound. It nearly startles Grian, making him jump and stare at Scar with concern. “Uh… Scar?” he questions. 

The man doesn’t speak until his laughter subsides, and he looks at Grian with shining eyes. “Oh man, you are definitely one hell of a human, Grian,” he says. “To be honest with you, I mainly approached you today because I wanted to see what it was about you that had Mumbo ready to throw his life away. What made you so special to him, and different from the other humans.” He walks over to Grian, steps light as he moves. “I mean, for the guy to spew nothing but vitriol for your kind for years, only to turn around and protect you? I thought, ‘well there has to be a reason for it’, and I think I see it now.” 

Scar moves to stand in front of Grian, and he’s smiling kindly. 

Grian can’t read this guy at all. 

“Why are you telling me all of this, Scar?” he questions, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Scar doesn’t make any sense to him, and maybe that’s because he’s shrouded in nothing but mystery. 

“Well, it’s like you said, I owe you the truth.” Scar shrugs. “And maybe it’s because I find you very interesting.” 

Grian leaves sometime later, having lost track of time and saying something about still having errands to run. Scar watches him go with a smile and wave, and finds himself feeling odd after their conversation. 

He lets out a loud sigh, brushing a hand through his hair, moving his bangs out of his face. 

Taking a glance around his shop, Scar finds everything looking satisfactory. He then heads into his office, his mind feeling heavy from all of the thoughts plaguing his thoughts. This certainly isn’t how he expected the afternoon to go. 

“Go to hell.”  

“Some of that fear’s worn off.”

Scar’s lips quirk up as Grian’s voice echoes in his mind, and along with his voice comes that feeling of interest. The human was certainly something else, Scar isn’t afraid to admit it. It’s almost a shame that they first met under such extreme circumstances, though he can’t be too upset by it. Meeting Grian gave him some very important information. 

Mumbo’s connection to him. 

That is a very curious thing. And naturally, when one is curious, they seek out more information to satiate their curiosity. Something that Scar is very good at, and something that Scar has begun to do. He’s certainly found good reason to be curious. Grian is quite the intriguing person. He’s different from most humans Scar has met before. 

Stepping into his office, Scar pauses as he sees someone already sitting in his chair. He frowns, closing the door behind him as he flicks the light on. “Well now, that’s a little rude. I thought vampires had to be invited in before they go and steal a man’s chair,” he comments. He tilts his chin up, “And to what do I owe the pleasure, Lord Scott?” 

Red eyes meet his own, and the vampire hums. “I thought I told you to kill the human, not let him walk away with his life and then get to know him.” 

Ah, straight to the point. Scott is another one who hasn’t changed. Scar crosses his arms, “You didn’t tell me Mumbo was involved with the human.” 

Scott lifts a perfectly trimmed brow. “Would you have accepted the job if I had?” he questions, and Scar huffs in return. 

“Well, it doesn’t matter now. I have no interest in killing Grian,” Scar says, shrugging. “I can’t believe you almost made me kill someone so interesting! Really, I’m offended on Grian’s behalf!” 

Scott’s eyes narrow as he looks at Scar, “Are you going to disobey me?” 

Scar scoffs at him, meeting his tone head on. “I reserve the right to deny and accept whatever job you give me. And this is a job I’m denying. You’ll have to find somebody else to do your dirty work, Mr. Councilman.” Scar’s eyes flash green, a silent declaration. 

There’s a dark chuckle that sounds from the vampire as Scott leans forward, setting his elbows on Scar’s desk. “I believe it’d be in your best interest to continue working alongside us, Scar,” he says.

“I hate to break it to you, but I’ve already shredded our contract!” Scar exclaims, shrugging, “very clumsy of me, I know.”

A smirk falls over Scott’s lips and he tilts his head curiously at Scar, “Tell me. How has Tubbo been?”

Feeling his blood run cold, Scar freezes in place. He stares at Scott’s red shining eyes, seeing the way they light up with amusement. Scott looks at him in the same way a predator stalks its prey, patient, silent, but dangerous. “….What? How do you—” he tries to question. He’s been so careful about hiding Tubbo, he’s done everything he could possibly think of to keep Tubbo out of Scott’s eye. 

“Hm? Oh, isn’t that a silly question. I have eyes everywhere, Scar. You didn’t really think you could hide him from me for forever, did you?” Scott raises a brow, lips curling in amusement. “It was a cute attempt, I’ll give you that.” 

Scar doesn’t answer immediately, carefully weighing his options. Anger is surging through him, how dare Scott threaten his son. He can feel how tense he is, restraining himself from lashing out and making a bigger problem for himself. Attacking a member of the Vampire Council wouldn’t look good for him, no matter how justified the reason. As much as he wants to spit in Scott’s face and threaten him to stay away from his son, he has to be smart. “What do you want.”

Scott smiles at him, pleased with his agreement. “I knew you were sensible. I’d hate to drag an innocent into this,” he hums. Scar nearly snorts. “All I want is to continue our partnership! A new contract, and your boy remains untouched.”

There’s no room for asking what he can gain from this, or why Scott needs his damn contract still. There’s no room for prodding for information, or finding a loophole, because the answer is right there in front him. No one, almighty powerful being or not, lays a finger on Tubbo.

Scar pulls up a chair. “Tell me about this new contract.”