When in whatever someone might call Phalanx's "focused" state, with features showing some variety of color and life and individuality, it seems as though at least a little of that is reflected in their skin as well. There still isn't anything identifying like scars or freckles, or even skin with enough pigment to hint at the sort of variety that humanity tends to have, but Phalanx at least looks alive now. There's at least some warmth there, instead of the washed-out, unhealthy pallor of a corpse.

And Phalanx watches Robin slosh layers of dirt off of their arm with the detached curiosity of someone who isn't actually attached to the limb. Phalanx might as well be watching some completely unrelated, but still marginally interesting, project that just happens to be occurring in the vicinity.