Scar stared at him as if he'd spoken the most outlandish possible pair of words in the universe.
For half a heartbeat, her mind refused to accept the words.
"Hit… you?" she repeated, voice thin.
Quinlan nodded once. "Hit me."
Her ghostly blue skin somehow went paler. She shook her head immediately, sharp and frantic. "I can't."
"You can," he said, encouraging.
Scar's eyes narrowed with irritation bleeding through the shock. "You mess with me too much today, Master!" she snapped. "I am your Elite Soul, your army general, not your wife. Ask Ayame or Iris."
Quinlan spread his arms wide in the form of an open invitation.
Before Scar could protest again, Synchra reacted. The helmet plates slid apart down the center with a clean hiss, opening just enough to reveal half of Quinlan's face while the rest remained armored.
His eye met hers.
He was smiling.
