The walls of the room groaned with heat, the air heavy like a furnace. You’d been pacing, tugging at your collar, already irritated before Johnny Storm even opened his mouth.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. It’s not my fault the ventilation system is trash,” he said, leaning back against the wall, his shirt plastered to his skin with sweat. A flicker of flame danced on his fingertips, unbothered by the stifling heat he was radiating. “Okay, maybe it’s a little my fault. I did… y’know. Flame on. Little too strong.”

You shot him a look, words sticking in your throat from the suffocating warmth. He smirked, shameless.

“What? Don’t act like it’s the worst thing in the world. I mean, sure, it’s basically a sauna in here, but…” He spread his arms, firelight glinting off his skin. “Could be worse. You’re trapped in here with me.”

Your silence didn’t discourage him. If anything, it fueled him. He leaned closer, blue eyes glinting, heat rolling off him in waves.

“You’re sweating,” he teased. “Can’t blame you though. I mean, it’s me. Human Torch. I’ve got that effect on people. I’m hot.”

You were literally trapped in a room with the human radio. No, not torch. Because he talked like he was commenting on a football game. You could have suggested he just flame your way out, but his ego was big enough as is.