Mantis's eyes perk up slightly in amusement. That's the kind of confidence he can admire in a statement. It fades, however, seeing the paint getting smeared. His own lack of soft tissue truly paled in comparison to what the man had clearly lost.

Mantis sets his own mask back into place. "Scars very rarely go away. Even if I had managed to fix my face, I would remember what it had been." He nods to the hawk. "Is your bird kind of like a seeing-eye companion?"