Kimblee's sanity slowly improved, his eyes getting less clouded and more alert by the day, but his vision not improving at all. Scar was becoming more worried by the day. Kimblee still had not needed a bathroom, and scar was almost sure that was never a good sign. Scar coaxed a little water down his throat, but Kimblee refused more than a mild sip. His skin pressed tightly to his face, and his hands were barely more than bone and papery, deadly skin clinging to it.
"Come on Alchemist…" He tried to coax, but the words came out hateful and sharp, despite the lack of real anger. Scar wondered when the anger had disappeared from his mind. He still felt bitter, but increasingly the bitterness was replaced by pity. When he failed to convince him, Scar set the cap aside and carefully arranged Kimblee's limbs underneath the blankets. Despite the heat outside, the alchemist remained tired and cold, teeth chattering as his body selectively chose which functions to perform with the limited fuel. Heart and lungs could only remain online, so long as the temperature gauges died. Scar wondered if Kimblee could regain health after all of this.
The alchemist became agitated and panicky, eyes wide. He went limp for a moment, then started to talk softly about someone, family. Scar was quiet, coming to the gradual realization that he was talking about a brother. Scar's brother's voice quietly reminded Scar that the longer he knew the alchemist, the more of himself he recognized in him.
Scar scowled.