He looks at the papers. Nothing ruined. That's a relief. It's a fortunate thing for him that, though he's often annoyed at things (mostly himself), he's not a hothead.

"Oh, but your propaganda convinced me. I'm signing up to be a mutant guerilla. Do you think Magneto will pin my first medal on me? You know, with his mind."

There's something behind the irritation for him to sense, if he pays attention: wry amusement. He at least knows that, as the son of Elphaba Thropp, he doesn't need to prove his bonafides to anyone. So he can joke about it.