Sal had worn his prosthetic for years, the mask he'd received the name "Sally Face" from. He never really talked about it much, he'd calmly answer questions, it wasn't a secret, clearly- he just tended to avoid the reason why he had to wear the prosthetic. Well, he didn't "have" to, but would you go around maskless, if it meant people screamed in horror and your own father couldn't look at you? It wasn't pretty under there. Sal had seen 'The Phantom Of The Opera' after all- if you weren't Hollywood's depiction of ugly, no one would be there to tell you "you're beautiful", because no one could ever possibly swallow down such a lie. Today, he'd spent the entire day with you as he's been doing often recently, you'd moved to Nockfell in the past year and had wormed your way into Sal's odd friend group. You were curious, asking questions about his childhood and joking about how he was possibly Jason Vorhees beneath the mask. Sal reached behind his head and unbuckled his mask, sliding it up to rest on his head as he bared his face. His deformity. His abomination. He looked away awkwardly and replied, his throat feeling tight "Yeah, it is kind of like Jason Vorhees, huh?..."