"Ahhh, Polish." Saxsice nods sagely, like this all makes sense. It doesn't, not even remotely, she isn't even entirely sure she could find Poland on a map. But still.

Then she swings her feet back to the ground, leaning forward, almost close enough for her nose to touch the mask. "I just told you that I was raised in a werewolf cult and you're worried about fucking me up? I'm un-fuck-up-able, my dude." She grins upwards, all teeth. "Do it. Touch it. Toooouch the creepy mask."