[His brow furrows with consternation, and the short form of John Gaius puffs up like his life depends on the display.]

She is not a cow. She's a Miltank. I would know. I'm deeply familiar with cows.

[That's... A concerning sentence. Probably?

But he bends, picking up the music player. And instead of handing it back, John immediately begins scrolling through the music.]

At least your taste in music is better than your attention span.