There's a metallic noise under her hand, a hardness that didn't break like bone did, as she slapped him with her claws. It turns his head but he doesn't cry out from pain or anything. The only thing that shows in the aftermath of her hit was the torn skin - or what was a mimicry of flesh, hanging from his cheek. It hung like ripped fabric, flashing for a moment before the furthest pieces turned the illusion off and left only a very tight mesh visible. The hardness Claudia felt was the smooth, white plating underneath, now marred with neat scratches like a cat got to him.

He twists his fury on her, barely able to see before mentally pushing aside all of the errors that were popping up from that slap. "You're just proving my fucking point," he metaphorically spits out at her. He would actually spit at her feet if he had the glands for it. Maybe it was okay that his Stark never installed such a thing. "The only thing worse than you laying a hand on me is just your existence here. I hope someone decides to throw you into that volcano."