Work Text:
deflect
"Aren't you hot in that thing?"
"Why thank you!" Scar would snark back, and run his hands along his jacket. The person asking would groan in mock annoyance, and Scar would continue his performance by doubling down on the joke. "I knew I looked dashing, but I didn't expect the compliment from you !"
Depending on the friend he was relaying to, they would react differently, but similar in essence. Some would push him jokingly, tell him to "get your mind out of the gutter" or say "Scar!" in a scandalised voice (that one was normally Mumbo).
The finale of his act would be when he seamlessly moved the topic onto sex jokes, or how the internet made him dirty minded. By then, the other party had forgotten the original observation.
deny
"Aren't you hot in that jacket?"
"It isn't actually that hot," Scar would justify himself, in a way that sounded oddly defensive. Not that anyone picked up on it, given how fast Scar spoke. "It's the British in you."
Then, his friend would normally laugh, but sometimes they would be confused. Scar would then elaborate: "Anything above 60 degrees and you're convinced it's summer!"
Predictably, the other party would often start a debate on why Britain Was Better Than America. Scar didn't even have to bring the alternate topic up, on those occasions.
deter
"Isn't it hot, wearing that?"
"Oh my god !" Scar would snap, turning sharply to whoever asked the question. It was normally a sharp contrast from his behaviour just moments before.
"Do you have any idea how irritating it is to be constantly asked that?!" Sometimes the irritation was faked, most of the time it wasn't. But at some point, he'd got his responses nailed down to a fine, subconscious art.
Sometimes the other party would smirk at each other or roll their eyes, or they would get defensive and lash back. Most of the time, they would glance at each other awkwardly and mumble out an apology.
"If I was hot, I'd take the jacket off. I'm not fucking stupid."
The conversation tended to peter off after that.
divulge
"You seem uncomfortable."
Scar let out a huff, resting his head further up Grian's arm. "That's 'cause it's hot, dumbass."
"You could always take the jacket off?"
Scar smiled, looking up to meet Grian's gaze and raised his eyebrows. "Hypocrite."
"Touché."
Grian pushed himself up from his lying position, causing Scar to groan, disgruntled to have been moved from his comfortable position.
"I'll tell you what, I'm hot as well. So why don't we take them off together?"
Scar hesitated, but after a moment, gripped onto the edge of his jacket. Grian held onto the bottom hem of his jumper.
Scar's leather jacket slipped off, and hit the floor first. Grian let go of his woollen jumper, and it hit the floor with a softer sound.
The breeze blew against their arms gently, almost teasingly.
Grian reached for Scar's wrist, and pulled his limp arm so that it was side-by-side with his own. Pale white lines ran across both: one in neat little rows, not unlike a ladder - the other more haphazardly, straight marks at various slants.
Grian smiled softly. "Snap."
Scar gave a similar smile in exchange. "Snap."