It takes Reiner a few moments to spot the problem. He has little experience with scaled creatures and far more with animals like horses and cats. But he's able to spot an anomaly after a bit of searching.

"Let's see if I can get it out, first," Reiner says.

Gingerly, he sets about removing the scale. It may seem surprising how gentle he is about it. Reiner has been a human weapon for most of his life; he has more blood on his hands than almost every single person in his world.

But his hands have also taken care of others. The partner he lost. The friends he made in Paradis. The younger cousin for whom he would do anything.

So it is very gently that he eases the scale out from beneath its neighbor and works it free.

"There we go," he says. "Better?"