Surprisingly, given his usual distance, Mantis was there, as well--- even given the headache and noise he was putting up with at that moment. He'd brought Luke, as well, and the boy was clinging with a death-grip to the man's bony hand, small, pale form practically plastered to Mantis' leg and side. He looked terrified beneath the blank expression, blue eyes flickering back and forth as if searching for the Bad Man.
Mantis had deemed it safe, however, and had decided it was better to re-introduce Luke to the outside world sooner rather than later. After all, the longer they waited, the less likely it would be that Luke would recover.
So. There they were, Mantis for once in dark gray slacks and a dark, long-sleeved shirt. He'd replaced his gas-mask with a simple, full-face black mask---the gas-mask rasped so loudly, it would have no doubt disturbed the service. Mantis knew that funerals were generally supposed to be quiet affairs; not so for him, naturally, but he thought perhaps the others would appreciate his consideration.