There's four long parallel slashes. The second is the longest, stretching from his right pectoral and ending just above the centre of his abdomen. And then there's the tiny, almost insignificant one to the right of his breast bone. His dog tags are there, too, warm metal that clinks together dully as he moves.

His own hands are rough and callused on her skin, though he keeps his touch light. She's giving off a good deal of heat herself, and Richard runs one hand down her legs and the other up her side just...feeling.

It's been a long time.