Scars hidden under the blizzard

*SnowFlame walked out into the luxurious kitchen of his mansion on Isla Nevada. He was tired from lack of sleep, so he made coffee. Sleep to him was like cheese on spaghetti: optional. And so too was a shirt, apparently, as he lacked one. Scars marred his skin, chemical fire burns, long healed claw and bite marks covering his body as he scooped was definitely NOT sugar into his coffee.*

*No guards patrolled his mansion's interior, he'd given the order to keep his scars secret, though newer hires would have likely missed that memo.*