What? [ He gives her his best innocent expression in response to her look of warning which maybe he'd get away with in the company of someone who doesn't know him very well? But certainly not with the girl he grew up with. She probably knows his face better than he does (though not for the reasons he might think, little Miss Stare-At-Mal-A-Lot). ] I never said I was joining you. You must be hearing things... [ Damn her hearing.

Her question pulls a snort out of him. ] I'm not gonna dignify that question with a response, Alina. [ Even if she didn't get sent to the dungeons for hitting someone, she probably tried to hit someone along the way. And it's not like he'd judge her for it anyway. There's always a sense of pride from Mal whenever he hears she defended herself. That's the Alina he knows and lo— ]

That's weird. [ He's just noticed something while looking down at their hands, turning one of her palms upwards for a better look. There should be a mark there from the cut she made when they were kids, to cheat the Grisha test... But it's like it never existed. He blinks in confusion. ] Your scar's gone. [ Were the people who brought them here responsible for that?

But when he looks at his own scar, the one from the glass he smashed over the head of that rude Quartermaster, his is still there. They don't match anymore. His gaze meets Alina's for an explanation. ]