Mitch looked sick at seeing Taliesen's mask. God, she hated masks. She looked away so as not to have to look at it. She didn't bother answering him as the two passed the guards onward to meet the Duchess. Mitch might have stepped off to the side to stand had there been other slaves there to stand with, or anyone to blend in with. But they were all wearing masks, and she was not, and being quite honest, Mitch had no desire to be near anyone wearing a mask.
She subtly tried to make herself look a tad more presentable at seeing the Dutchess before her. Mitch was still covered in blood and soot.
Taliesen engaged in the verbal dance that he had perfected so long ago. He matched the Duchess' sense of humor, knowing that she expected her agents to feel the same way she did in the moment. When the Duchess laughs, you laugh. And all that.