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The hat was going to take getting used to. Specifically because it gave Miggs horrible hat hair. 

“No one is going to take me seriously at all,” he pouted, lifting the fedora from his head and looking at where the inner band had pressed his curls down to his head, leaving the hair outside of it to fluff and frizz in its usual manner. Miggs turned to see Peter’s mouth pressed into a thin, careful line, a dead giveaway that he was doing his best not to laugh. 

“See!” Miggs cried, smacking Peter with his new fedora a few times in outrage as Peter started to laugh, unable to help himself. “Why do you agent types have to dress like such nerds!” Peter eventually regained himself enough to quickly sign You mean us. “What?” Peter smiled, gesturing to Miggs’ new fedora, the yellow band clashing a little with the felt. 

You mean us agent-types.