"Hardly the case, I assure you," Vendetta replied smoothly. He followed Beni's gaze, briefly, but the mask was more than helpful. Covered from head to toe, nothing was given away -- he was free to ponder the ironies of convergence (and the woes of having neither a hole for his mouth nor syringe or straw) without any eyes on his face. Another thought struck him and was immediately pursued, his bemusement masked.
"You shouldn't stare, Wednesday," he chided, good-naturedly. "It might give the wrong impressions."
There. Now he was free to grin, and he did, looking back at Lady B.