"...Well, it ain't that simple," Capochin mutters, picking up the thought where it was left. "I won't say I'm ignorant to the fact that I did a lot more damage than what--- what you can see. M'no stranger to that, neither. Sometimes what you can't see is worse."

Without thinking, Capochin rubs the heel of his hand into his chest as if to soothe an ache. There's a scar there. A thick one, raised and pale blue. A deep, old hurt. Never once was it visible under the Bizzyboy uniform, which Capo was strict about keeping properly zipped up. But today, out of uniform, with a low neckline, it's on full display.

How long has it been there? When did he get it? It certainly wasn't there when Grujaja was younger.

"...I'm sorry," he adds softly. "I'm so sorry. You deserved better, all'a youse, but--- you been wit' me and Hector so long. You was so little. You been just as devoted as anyone, and we--- I took advantage of that. I'm sorry. You trusted me and I blew it."