His fingers eventually set the casing of make-up back on the coffee table, and he found himself raising the ridge where his eyebrow was only starting to regrow. He found a flash where his temper was, but he pushed it down and away. There was no way that he could allow himself to go back to acting like that ever again.

Instead, he folded his mending fingers together to rest on his knees, patient but determined for his answers. "I'm your father, and your need to hide such things concerns me."

Slowly, as if trying to decide if this is the right course, he gestured at his son. "Will you show me?" He had to give Yuri the option of more or less willingly showing the scar he knew deep inside of him was there. Flashes of memory and burnt flesh not his own... it was a horrible memory.