He didn't flinch at the knife although he did pull in a sharp breath. The little burn was a pleasure and his eyes narrowed to slits. Steve was tempted to lean into the blade, to force it into his skin, but he hadn't been given permission for that. And it wasn't letting Kavinsky be in control. He gave a faint nod, nose brushing the man's cheek lightly.

"Yes. Whatever you want. Carve it deep."

Steve had a few very obvious scars, but at the moment they were still hidden by cloth. The others were faded and mostly gone, his healing working on them slowly over time. The ones from the war were still ugly and almost fresh. And Steve hated them with a burning passion.