When he sketches, he emphasizes those lines and the missing eye. A desire to touch that half of his face, the half that almost looked as though it had morphed itself onto his skin, seemed like armor. That would be the side he would avoid, were they to come to blows. Though the blind spot would be his first place to strike. That entire half of the other's face, he leaves blank to represent that. Speed would be his ally if it came to it, to defeat whatever countermeasures he had developed to protect his obvious weakpoint.

Sai's eyes move down his body, analyzing his frame beneath his clothes as he starts the faintest of outlines, soon to be marked over by the man's choice of outfit. Every detail would be committed to paper, and he would title it Uchiha Obito.

"What are they from, the scars?"