Narcissus saw what he wanted to see. It was a mirror image of what was inside which was ugly and distorted. While his face changed over the centuries, depending on what time period he was going through, his image was persuaded by the times. During World War II he'd been blonde and blue-eyed, during an era where Hitler wanted the perfect youth to control. He'd been different then, but the mentality had been the same.

Today's standards were not focused around muscle bound body builders with gorgeous eyes and chiseled features. His look was more dapper, thin and willowy. He cast her a venomous glance, surely she had not cut him down with that petty excuse for an insult. She herself was quite ghastly looking and he noticed. "Should it be comparable to a woman with a ghastly mane and pink lips?" She looked hideous.