After making an annoyed face, Dillon retorted with, "Yeah, and then you'd use your powers for evil instead of good. The world would be doomed and there'd be no hope for anything ever." A little dramatic, maybe, but where was the fun if you weren't a little dramatic sometimes? Especially when that drama was used to mess with your sister.
"Yeah, oh," Dillon teased his sister's lack of observance. Or, not so much lack of observance, as it was a lack of notice that the bright colors might be odd to someone who didn't live in the room. "It's fitting of you guys, I guess," he chuckled a little bit as he looked around the room, if only because it's really freaking girly." He shrugged and shook his head when she mentioned painting or wallpapering. "The gray doesn't bother me," he told her honestly. "It's a little bland, but as you always tell me when we argue, I'm bland too, so..." a grin to let her know that he was joking. When he was in his good moods, he was a very, very different person. Easier to joke with and get along with. He knew that she liked him better this way.
He nodded his head. "They're generally lower maintenance, too, aren't they?" He'd never actually had a pet before but cats seemed to be the way to go when you needed a semi-self sufficient pet. "You thought four was a good number because mom basically instilled a 'go big or go home' thing in all of our heads when it comes to presents," he reminded her. That was a part of what always made Johnson Christmasses and the like fun. Part of it, anyway. "I bet Shorty liked it, though." He half-smiled.
With another nod, he shrugged. "It's getting to be spring time, so it won't be so bad soon. Maybe you can, like... train them or something. Train them to go outside to go?" he nodded toward the door and shrugged again. "People have trained their cats to do weirder stuff." There was a book that Dillon had read once, a non-fiction book, about a woman training her cat to use the toilet. "Yes, it was that day. And I was so frickin' mad because there was poo in the straw."
"Yeah, no," he shook his head and gave her a half-smile. "This is the one thing I've got. I'm not just going to let it be taken away. Not even for my brat of a sister," he teased, setting the notebook he'd brought with him on the bed and watching as one of the cats took residence on top of it. "I'm not sure if that's it's way of agreeing with you or me, but whatever it is, it made itself halfway clear," he joked and looked back at her.
Huffing, Dillon narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "No, she's not telling me anything. But that doesn't mean that I don't want to. I already look awkward enough. Green hair would make it so that I can't even face her." He pulled his lip into his mouth. Not that he thought April would care, but... it was hard to get past deep seeded insecurity that went with the childhood he'd had.
With a fleeting glance at the tube, he chucked it lightly at her and shook his head no. "There are dozens of ways for me to show you how awesome you are and how much I appreciate you, that don't involve defacing my hair," he pointed out as he leaned down to pick up the papers for her. As he glanced fleetingly at one of them, he blinked a couple of times. Some of these words seemed... really familiar. "What..." he asked vaguely, pointing at the paper.