It seems like a fucking hour that Johnny's left hanging here on his own, thirsty and annoyed and really uneasy about what the busker might be telling Greta about him. When he hears Greta's voice, his head snaps up in embarrassing (and somewhat inapproriate) relief.

"Greta?" His voice is hoarse and cracked from dehydration and disuse. He clears his throat painfully and tries again. "Greta! Over here!"

Super helpful, but there's not exactly anything else he can do.