[It should be all the better for it. Sampo Koski is a man of masks and all. He shouldn't let them slip. Not for anyone. Not for inquisitive young birds.]

[The squeeze to his shoulder, though, makes something rise to the surface - a bubble from the glass of metaphorical alcohol. His eyes open. He looks...almost a little weary, now.]

Myyyyy regular old self.

[And back to a creased smile - and something makes him pull forward, his hand finding the other's cheek to cup it to stare into the other's eyes. Its not a harsh glare. It's almost plaintive.]

[Nothing firm with the grip. Its light. He also, after a moment, pats it once, twice.]

Now you're saying stuff that's scary. You just have that effect on people?

[And then the hand is drawn back, tucked away, like a merchant putting away his wares at the end of the day in his suitcase.]

Do you want to...have that effect on people?