Lupa's carefully neutral expression turns to a frown, and his gaze is cold and hard. The only sign of more turbulent emotion than just that calm disapproval is the tattoo on his stomach. It begins glowing bright red, circuitry lines extending from it for an inch or two. They stop there, because Lupa is keeping careful control of his transformation, but he's still very disturbed by the idea of being Marked.

After a moment he crosses his arms over his chest. "So you intend to brand my flesh with your mark. Why? You know enough about me to know I was Greg, so I shouldn't need to tell you why I'm opposed to the idea."