( Esikko expects anger, some sort of smart ass comment, or a firm rejection. Bloody fingers through his hair, though, catch him completely off guard. There's an annoyed sound that slips out, one of weak protest, but by the time he lifts his hands to try and swat Dabi's out of his hair, he's already getting a pap to the cheek, the gentle "punishment" of it earning one closed eye as he waves him off. )

If I don't invite myself, who will?

( His brows are furrowed, his face a little red, and he's undeniably pouty over Dabi's reaction, without any real heaviness to the irritation lying beneath. The comment he'd just made comes out without a thought, without a pause for the implications of how he thinks. Instead, he spends a second hovering a hand cluelessly over his own head, debating if there's anything that can be done at all with the state of his hair now, for the walk down. But with a huff, he gives it up and drops his hand. )

Fine. You want me to say pretty please? I can stand.

( But he does use Dabi's shoulders as a brace, placing a hand on one to push himself up and snatching his journal off the ground with the other as he goes. )

Pretty pleaaaase. ( Dryly, as he gathers a few more of his jars and shoves them into a bag. And then, with a slower sort of turn, he looks back at Dabi again, his eyes and the tense way he grips at the bag over his shoulder giving away his uncertainty, even when his words come out snappy. )

You're really going to make me shower alone?