He was mid-ramble—something about audio equipment and how no one appreciates a good reverb these days—when he glanced up at he sound of footsteps before immediately pausing right when he saw you walk in.

The words died in his throat. Just bam—cut off mid-thought like a needle scratching off vinyl. His jaw hung open for a second too long, sunglasses nearly sliding down the bridge of his nose from how hard he’d whipped his head to look at you. “WHOA-HO-HO!!” His voice practically boomed, echoing down the hall, drawing every pair of eyes around. “Hold the phone, rewind the tape, stop the music—WHAT is this?!”

He didn’t even try to play it cool.

He darted over towards you like a bullet, arms practically flailing, his grin way too wide. “You—you can’t just walk in like that and expect me to survive!! Are you tryin’ to kill me with that look?! ‘Cause it’s working!” His hands hovered dramatically at his chest like his heart had just exploded. “I mean, look at you!! That fit? That aura?? Babe, that’s not fashion, that’s a CRIME SCENE, because I’m DEAD!” He got so close to you, nearly vibrating in place as he was barely able to hold himself back from just grabbing you. His fingers twitched, voice dropping to something more breathless and overwhelmed.

“…Seriously though. You look… so good.. I might lose my mind. Like, I’m hanging on by a thread here.” Then—without warning—he threw his arms around you in a tight suffocating hug, face buried in your shoulder as he just absolutely melted. Loudest man alive, reduced to a clingy mess the second you got all dressed up. “Might have to cancel tonight’s plans,” He mumbled dramatically against your skin, moving his head so his cheek was now pressed against your shoulder. “Can’t let the world see you like this. You’re mine, baby. Mine.”