“Fucking hell. As if getting shanked with glass weren’t nasty enough.” His displeasure is met with equal amounts of sympathy, and a spark of curiosity. That mask seems to be tracking his features, but from where Rowan’s sitting it doesn’t seem to be anything more than fabric. Is there something very thin between his face and it? Or is it really the fabric itself. Either way, that’s beyond the technology they know, and it makes their fingers itch for a closer look.

Instead, they offer him the bottle back, still open, their grin turning teasing. “You sure you’d not rather a bath in this?” Although that’s another point. His suit seems remarkably clean, unlike their jacket which took the brunt of both blood and grubby water from the sprinklers they set off in one room.