Scar pays little mind to most holidays. None of the annual rituals in Johto mean anything to him, as amusing as old men getting stuck in chimneys can be. The fasts and feasts he used to observe as a child are, to put it all in one word, lonely, here. Somehow, they're even lonelier than they had been in Amestris. In his self-imposed exile, there had been a comfort in knowing that someone else was saying the same prayers somewhere under the same sky.

So, the impossible daydream of truly going home continues to nip at his heels.

The turnover of the calendar year, though, does mean something. He's relieved that the lot of Shark House has decided to stay in and have their own party. He'll never be fond of large crowds, and somehow fireworks make him jumpier even than they used to, but tonight does mark the day he and Lust acknowledged their partnership. For this, it seems like tonight would be as good a time as any to acknowledge her.

And maybe cross some of that loneliness, or at least begin to.

He's allowed himself to relax, tonight. Something that's been growing more and more common. He's even sipped at the champagne that he suspects Lust only poured for him so he wouldn't feel left out, so he's warmed from that. There's a piece of rogue silly string in his hair that he will not confess to. And, in a little acknowledgement that it's a particular day for Them, he's even dressed presentably (Valiantly resisting the cosmic urge to wear his Alolan shirt and tugging on jeans instead of track pants).

At some point in the night, he disappears for a few minutes, reappearing in the hall and being met with the sound of Heather playing Auld Lang Syne on the kazoo. He doesn't interrupt the ruckus, and he doesn't call out to Lust. His eyes linger on her as he patiently waits in the doorframe to the hallway for her to look up.