Jean-Claude notices the scars, and finds them fascinating. He has a thing for survivors, being one first and foremost himself, and although his scars aren't on his face he has more than his fair share. Not aging since his death means nothing has healed, either, and since his death he has also acquired a particularly dramatic perfect cross-shaped scar seared into the flesh over his heart, the edges of it visible beyond the ruffle of lace at his plunging neckline.

His stilted greeting certainly sounds like he's reading off a script. It sparks amusement in Jean-Claude, who instantly assesses this to be a scholar here for knowledge, put-upon by politics and disdainful of caution. It's about as far from his own natural proclivities as it's possible to be.

"Do not strain yourself; merely Jean-Claude alone is acceptable." He has no taste for being insincerely called Master. Being intensely suspicious by nature, Jean-Claude then offers a beautiful smile and asks, "Who would have access to such a recording? Is it for your private record-keeping?"