Some unflattering stereotype of a dude might be a bit tiffed by prospects of being laid turning to cuddles, but affection and attention are too valuable for John to pass up. A wild smile begins to curve the corners of his mouth and for half a second, he almost looks so happy he doesn't know what to do with himself.

John shifts slightly, giving Eddie an easier time reaching for the stylish green ink. It'll be a while before the skin heals well enough to be completely smooth again, particularly because John is a perfectionist who inked himself by hand.

Nerves under a tattoo can also be a funny thing; over-sensitivity is common enough on freshly healing wounds, so it takes little more than the pressure of those curious fingers to send a few shots of pleasing pain spiraling across his senses. He doesn't react too much, aside from a stutter in his heartbeat and a slightly rushed exhale.

He wants to say. Something. But he doesn't want to compromise the trick of perception that has whatever asshole bugging Eddie shutting the hell up. He could ask Eddie to quit with the drugs, but he knows his friend is smart enough to realize that's an option. It's just not an option he wants, which is entirely his choice.