It was, indeed, the God of Mischief in all of his mischievous glory. Since he had taken a shine to Gamora and her erstwhile paramour, he had long since decided they would be allowed to see through his current magical disguise, and he could easily see past the spells he cast on others.
Whereas he looked as though he was amused before, now he looked like he was trying his hardest not to laugh while managing an expression that was sympathetic. He wasted no time in closing the distance between and grinned wildly down at her...well, everything.
"Oh dear Gamora, whatever have they done to you," he said, and the grin was marred by a momentary wince. "You have my condolences. And my absolute assurance that the paint on your face fares far better with your disguise."
The hair was another story, but he found it strangely charming, and he had seen far more extreme styles on Sakaar.
"May I buy you a drink?" he offered, thinking that water might not be the sort of consolation she needed.