Harlock's own helmet covered most of his face, given his rather distinctive features. As Madeline offers the papers, Harlock scans their surroundings, his arms crossed over his chest in a gesture of impatience, but making notes of where things are located - bunkers, supply sheds, anything that might be of use later, or urgent enough to tell the rest of the Corsairs once they return.

"Hm." He grunted as it seems the documents isn't arousing suspicion.