Shai cannot believe it worked. He has utterly loathed that tattoo since he first spotted it on the home security tape that caught Tony and his Neanderthal friends defacing his car, arms bared by ribbed white tank tops. It’s the tattoo that’s kept him in hiding, the knowledge that he walks the halls with a boy who holds enough hate in his heart to permanently scar himself with it. It feels so fitting that it should be the beginning of the end of Tony’s reign of terror.
