Scott doesn't know it, but his thirty-seven distinct frowns had been observed, evaluated and catalogued over the years.

When facing a particularly complicated rescue it barely touched his eyebrows though his hairline climbed high.

When he's in pain it's most pinched in the middle, creasing the whole brow, ear to ear, trailing around the eyes. He wondered how they knew the meds had worn off, when it's stamped across his whole face.
The worst one, they'd all agree, only surfaced -scrunching down his nose- when one of the others was hurt. The current frown, a limp hand resting in his.