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Marco lightly scoffed when she said he seemed uncomfortable, agreeing. "Life's uncomfortable. Starts out as blisters 'till the skin calluses over, then you just continue on." He says, rubbing his finger over one on his hand. |
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"Or like scars. It cuts or burns deep, but it always heals over." She added. |
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"Exactly, burns are the worst, just gotta deal with 'em." He noted, tossing his gaze up again, getting lost in her eyes for a moment before scowling at himself and pulling it out. |
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"I know." She stated, rolling up her sleeves. Her arms had scars from various things, including burns. "My parents and siblings did this to me, and some, they didn't. Some are from working accidents and mishaps." |
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Marco rolled his sleeve up, once of his tattoos sneaking through. His arm was mostly scarred, only having a few snips of normal skin. "Mine are all from my douchebag of a father, worst one is right here." He says, pointing to a divit in his arm from a blade. Marco was uncomfortable doing this, like really uncomfortable. But he was actually doing it infront of her, so maybe he could learn to trust others again. |
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"Scars are like trophies, in a way. They tell your story, your survival, your battles." She stated. |
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"Yeah, got a few others not from him but, most are from him." He says, rolling his other sleeve up to reveal yet even more scars. |
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"Thank you for showing me." She stated. |
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"Eh, you showed be first, didn't comment anything about them, just let me show them. So honestly thank you for that." Marco praised, rolling his sleeves back down. |
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"So, how long have you been in the rodeo business?" She asked. |
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Snow and Sleet Mix, Clearing at Night
