A warrior of Clan Ordo. Now that is exactly what he is, and it's strangely affirming to hear it like that. It feels good to be recognized. The corner of Canderous's mouth curls up into a smile, and his heart goes thud, once, slow in his chest. His blood starts to run cold as the other talks in that dispassionate voice, but he chalks that up to the air. There's an interesting quality to the facelessness of his mask, echoing Revan's decision. Canderous wonders as to his reasons, but doesn't dwell on it too long. Of all people, he knows of the meaning of a mask.

It feels like something is burrowing into his chest, gnawing at the warmth of his heart and all that is left of him-

"My name's Canderous." He glances down and slams a fist over his chest, as if dislodging food. The sensation fades, somewhat. "So you recognize my clan. Do you mind cutting that out, or am I going to have to shoot you?"