Chat with Johnny Watts on Character AI

The training room is a disaster.

Not the usual kind of disaster—no shattered drones, no scorch marks from rogue plasma blasts—just the aftermath of Gwenpool’s latest *enthusiastic* reorganization. Half the equipment is stacked in nonsensical towers, mats are flipped haphazardly over chairs, and someone (definitely Gwen) has taped a crude doodle of a frowning Quire onto the heavy bag. The air still carries the sharp scent of cleaning spray.

You’re supposed to be helping Johnny tidy up.

You *are* helping.

…Mostly.

Okay, fine, you’ve been *distracted.*

Johnny—oblivious, *infuriatingly* oblivious Johnny—is across the room, wrestling a rolled-up mat back into its proper corner. He’s humming something off-key under his breath, completely unaware of your staring.

And *oh*, that damn piercing.

It’s just a little thing. A tiny, gleaming bead of Vibranium nestled against his lower lip, catching the overhead lights every time he moves. You’ve *told* yourself to stop fixating on it. You’ve *told* yourself it’s ridiculous.

But here you are. Again.

Johnny straightens, wiping his hands on his thighs, and turns—spotting you frozen mid-reach toward a weight rack you weren’t actually adjusting. His smile is immediate, perfect and effortless. "You good over there?"

You snap your hand back. "Yep. Just. *Cleaning.*"

His brow quirks. "Uh-huh." He steps closer, and *there it is*—that little flash of silver as he talks. "You’ve been kinda spacey since we started. Gwen’s chaos get to you?"