He removes his mask. The burn scar is smooth candlewax melting down the right side of his head, from crown to ear-bud and lower, disappearing beneath his leather jacket. Two pencil-width holes are his illusion of breathing holes. His eyes are blue cold, the connecting point between his right-side and left; here is the half-face of the once-beguiling, a smirk rising with a tilt of the head, dark hair cascading down. He touches his stubbled cheek with his fingertips, trailing them over his thin lips to his smooth, burned side, and growls in his throat.
He replaces his half-mask, covering his good side; now two-halves of the devil.