Marek was most definitely not about to comment on her clothing. He hadn't even really given a fuck about Melinda's scarf, not literally, just about what it represented. She was hiding behind him, that was what bothered him.
Chas's reasons for being down lately were far more valid in his mind than a physical scar, even if it was on Melinda's face, and she was still confident and energetic enough to go on random food adventures with him, to smile and laugh even if she did it begrudgingly. And all that aside, Chas was not his twin sister. He liked her enough that he would care if she went into a stupor the way Melinda had done, but when it was his twin, it cut deeper, hurt him as well as Melinda. Hell, Chas probably understood that, being a twin herself.
"Melinda's handiwork," he said gruffly, not bothering to feel even slightly ashamed of his appearance. Still, he wasn't proud of it either. "At least she's fighting, yeah? That's something, I guess."
The look she'd given him at the end, the way she'd been waiting to see if he was going to continue the fight, the way the wind had seemed to go out of her sails, wasn't especially promising. But he'd keep pushing her buttons if that was what it took to get his twin back.
He accepted the salve, and handed over the food. "Here," he said, actually managing a little smile, even though it hurt his jaw. "Food for you and the baby. Hopefully that'll make up for it?"