" Tell me, are your lower limbs prosthetic, or are you simply misshapen? " Heimerdinger was often times one to pry, especially when it came to the potential mechanical affinity. However, sometimes he simply came off as rude, a twitch ran through that prim and proper posture he donned as he wavered, catching himself. " N-Not to offend, that is. "
Not a single word hems through Jhin that elicits more than a chuff and a light chuckle. For him, it’s endearing. It is not as if his ego hadn’t survived much worse in light of harder scrutiny.
“My skin has never been replaced, no.”
He watches Heimerdinger from an impromptu perch on his seat, sipping his tea as liberally as he likes.
“And I have not considered the notion. My body operates on the same bone and sinew as any. It would be a waste to beg for unnecessary and undoubtedly uglier ‘improvements.’”
Hm.
His mouth splits into a flawless, pearlescent smile.
“From my perspective,” he muses, “you are more misshapen than I, friend.”