The man, if he was a man, seemed supernaturally durable.  Tears' claws ripped downwards through his shirt, but left his skin unharmed.  He seemed to be made of stone, or something just as durable.  Cheryl's claws had no more effect, and he let out a booming laugh as he swung his bat in a wide sweep.  He missed, but all those in the room could see that he was enjoying himself despite his earlier sadness.