[ It's an expression that reminds him immediately of Dutch, which: charming and nostalgic, of course. Also sets off some very tiny alarm bells. That would matter more if he weren't already on guard, keeping an eye out for signs that she's one of the targets, but it's still useful. ]

Remind me to send your date a sympathy card. [ The alcove's easy enough to reach, the small hallways less packed with bodies — just bodies making out against walls, obviously, because what's an underground party without PDA. Johnny ignores them like an old pro. Utopia's kinkier, honestly. This is whatever. ]

The only way to get into New Amsterdam's most exclusive and sweaty party is by being smart, stupid or lucky. [ Even in the offshoots, it's loud. Johnny shouts over the noise, pausing to duck into the first empty alcove he sees. It's more claustrophobic than cozy, given the stone walls. Quiet enough to give up the yelling, though. ] I'm the first one. Sometimes also the other ones, but you know. Talking about this, specifically.