Ivar would likely bristle at any attempt to put him at ease. It's easier dealing with people's discomfort than with what he often misinterprets as their pity. He's a proud and independent sort, a creature molded by hardship and being born in an era where physical prowess was everything.

"No. But I have a friend here who can do something similar, though not nearly so fluidly." His cheeks flush a little bit at the word 'friend', indicating there might be more on Ivar's mind then just friendship. "He calls it morphing." There was a term Marco called himself, but Ivar could be damned if he could remember right at this minute.