John looks completely dumbfounded when the alters suddenly switch-- his eyes widen like saucers and his mouth opens and shuts a few times before any words actually come out. Apparently his genius brain had failed to throw this possible outcome at him, and while he does play dumb very well this is no performance.

"I wanted to ask him, actually," he grumbles, fidgeting, reaching to scratch absently at the back of his neck. "Sneaky bastard." It's muttered even further below his breath, petulant irritation almost smothering out the tiny glimmer of begrudging respect; touche, Riddler. Touche.

Apparently Riddler being not quite at the forefront is enough to jailbreak John's fidgety hands; he picks up something off the table, turning it in his hands, intensely trying to puzzle it out in a way that has nothing to do with giving him time to think of something to say to Eddie. It doesn't help that the evenings previous promises have his blood running warmer than usual, inclining his thoughts towards... less helpful subjects than he'd like.

He can't help but peek up at his buddy little by little though, unable to repress a smile that crawls across his mouth.

"Hi, by the way. Nice to see ya Buddy, been missin' ya."