Gladio looks over at the question and squints, then gives a quick nod. Looking down at the meat, he gives a strange sort of smile before he begins speaking, his voice easy as if it still doesn't destroy him inside to talk about. "My dad taught me how to cook on a campfire, you know." He moves over and leaves the meat on what it had been carefully wrapped in sitting by the fire to get warmed up. Some magic has its uses, even if he's not fond of it personally. "The King-" a brief pause, then a change, "King Regis, dad, Cid, and Whesker... they did something like we did. A big road trip. Whesker taught my dad, then he taught me when we went camping. Iggy taught me a trick or two, but I like it just like this instead of on the grill."

He doesn't talk about his dad, or the better days, very often. Almost never, unless Iris is around. She wants them to remember the better times; it leaves him with new holes inside of him because he can't let himself grieve. Still, the words come out, to his own surprise, as if Prompto just being here changed something.

His fingers reach out, carefully testing the heat just above the skillet, waiting for the oil to get hot enough.