"Oh no, don't, I may swoon entirely," says Johnny, barely biting back a laugh. He grins, looking down at Gabe's hands on the jacket, only now noticing what he's wearing - good grief, but his subconscious is a tool - and then Gabe brings the attention to his hair, which... oh god. His eyes widen as he touches it. He can only imagine how fucking absurd he must look.

"Jesus Christ," he groans. "Please get your hands in it, mess it up, this is the worst. We get to be superheroes and I'm some poser-punk hustler, fuck."

Actually that's pretty apt, but that's not the point.