He didn't learn to tune that out so much as... redirect. If he can give his team a subtle nudge, make it think it was their own plan. Sometimes it works, sometimes the Capitol or the stylists have their own plan too locked in. He wishes very much they could talk about this freely.

"Albina," he says with the utmost sweetness when she flies over to them in a panic, the tone remarkably different from how he'd spoken to Jyn seconds ago. "Don't you think her hair would look nice swept to the side? Here." He gestures on his own forehead rather than reaching into Jyn's space, touching to the far right near his temple, the opposite of his own side part.

She tuts. "I hope you didn't pull her hair out, Cassian Andor. I worked hard on that ponytail!"

Pulled plenty hard, he's sure. He's all smiles, the kind that don't quite reach his eyes. Before he can reply his own stylist swoops in, like she needs to double check he hasn't ruined anything on himself either upon hearing the commotion. She chides him under her breath, tugging and readjusting the artful swoop of his hair. When she steps back, it doesn't look the least bit different, already pressed and sprayed and gelled into the chosen style of the day. He's not even sure he'll be able to wash all of it out after one shower.