"Mm. Yeah." Johnny shrugs, shifting his position so his feet are dangling over the edge of the platform. He looks mildly at his shoes, the distant treetops below. Heights have never bothered him too much, and this just feels nice and calm.

"I'm not the best guy for advice on this kinda thing," he says. "I don't think I ever took anything slow a day in my damn life." He chuckles a little, self-deprecatingly. "I don't know what to suggest other than maybe get drunk and make a few mistakes. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy you'd lose a friendship with over something like that."

He can understand if that sounds terrifying, of course. Coming out, so to speak, was easy for him in that his first target had basically been wearing a neon sign saying DTF.