Scar laughs again, managing to only cough a little. "And what are they missing out on, Lord Brighella?" His tone is light, teasing. He looks up at the other man, face streaked in ichor and drool and come, with his four yellow eyes and the weight of his horns dragging his head back.

"Do I get to fight you, for training? To be better at fighting you?" He wants to tear Brighella apart again, to bury his claws in his gut and leave them there, to take more burning bites of his flesh.