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For a good long while Kamikaze manages to keep his jovial attitude, his haughty disdain, even under the pressure of constant torture and degradation. It is not as strong as it used to be though, his attitude is riven with cracks, deep dark cracks, but still, beat him down and he'll bounce back again, smirk, sneer, smile in place.
“You know, sweetie, it's this smile of yours that makes me want to hurt you. I can't stand it. It makes me worry that I'm not doing my job properly. Makes me think you're up to something.” Kamikaze's handler takes hold of his chin, moving his face this way and that, studying the expression he had generated as a screw you. Like her touch is poisonous, the instant her thumb moves to caress his bottom lip his smile dies, wilts slowly, unable to remain alive in the blue glare of her malice. He is the monster, but she is the frightening one.