Lemm does not care how the lines turn out. He'd expected more struggling, anyway. This is frankly an abomination of a translation and would make sense to no one -

The ink smears so well down the hairs of his beard that Lemm's initial hands-off shock reaction hangs there for a solid moment.

His head tilts up from looking at the very stained bit of his beard to stare so, so darkly at the Knight.

His expression doesn't change, but his wrist flicks with perfect penmanship. The inked quill's nib spits a beautiful arc of ink right across their pale mask.