Rico's attitude shifts from one of slightly-peeved contemplation to genuine bafflement as his eyebrows pinch together under his helmet. He puts his hands on his hips to mask his confusion.

"I don't," he says, cockily but also somewhat confused. "I don't need to. It is instinct."

Violence has been drilled into his head to the point where he barely even has to think about what he's doing before he's sending somebody to three months worth of dental surgery. That metaphor might have been a bit of a miss in that respect.

"Are you saying that your powers are like throwing punches? What are you saying?"