Tommy rolled his eyes. "Right, let's keep track of the score, because we're ten again." He sat crossed legged, staring at Oliver. "Why would she ask? She's a doctor, Oliver. She can ask you if they bother you, if the underlying injury is a problem, but she's not going to ask you how it happened. It's not her damn business or even relevant to making sure you're healthy."
When Oliver took his shirt off, Tommy couldn't not look, but seeing the scars made them strangely better, because his imagination had done a pretty vivid job imagining them, but now, he just saw his friend, his very well built best friend.
Fuck, he really needed to stop thinking in those terms. This dimension was really fucking up with his head.
Focusing on the most urgent matter, he cupped Oliver's face. "You don't explain anything. You tell her if they bother you or not and move on. The stories behind the scars are for you to share when you're ready. That won't change because of a medical exam."