It is a lie. Not his best work, of course. A little rough-edged compared to his usual flair and form, but given the make of their opponents, it's hardly the end of the world.

"Thank you." He preens, chin tipping higher for a beat— until he smells the acidic tang of blood, and remembers the damage he'd never truly been able to appraise. His attention twists for it, the rest of him following that same tread, brow furrowing for a tepid beat as he tries to get a good look at it.

"Small price to pay for clearing the streets tonight, I suppose. Not that they won't come washing back in like the tide tomorrow."