It comes out more sarcastic than he meant, bordering on catty, but Prompto's tired and maybe, just maybe, a little scared about where this could go. If there's a chance they could still have that thing between them. Smart thing is not to assume anything, not trust they could even make it a week from now with all the daemons, but Prompto's still got a hopeless romantic deep inside.
He catches up with Gladio, needing to take several strides to catch up to his longer ones, his boots squelching against mud and wetlands grass until the ground starts to go from level to ascending and it starts turning into rock. The glow feels both like home and painful, full of memories that he wishes he could shove to the side. With the two of them it feels...empty. Wrong. They're missing some key party members here.
"I got the fire."
Prompto always goes for that first, at least when he's stuck out in the sticks by himself. Fire won't stop a daemon going at you full-bore, but between the runes and some fire, he figures the odds of a few hours of safe sleep are better than without. Prompto can't help but glance after Gladio, the scarred muscles against his back, before he kneels by the fire pit and gets to work.
After awhile, he has a flame going, feeding some kindling in it from his pack until he get can get it big enough to cast a warm glow across the haven's rock face. Sighing, Prompto levers up from his knees and cracks his back, wriggling out the kinks.
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It comes out more sarcastic than he meant, bordering on catty, but Prompto's tired and maybe, just maybe, a little scared about where this could go. If there's a chance they could still have that thing between them. Smart thing is not to assume anything, not trust they could even make it a week from now with all the daemons, but Prompto's still got a hopeless romantic deep inside.
He catches up with Gladio, needing to take several strides to catch up to his longer ones, his boots squelching against mud and wetlands grass until the ground starts to go from level to ascending and it starts turning into rock. The glow feels both like home and painful, full of memories that he wishes he could shove to the side. With the two of them it feels...empty. Wrong. They're missing some key party members here.
"I got the fire."
Prompto always goes for that first, at least when he's stuck out in the sticks by himself. Fire won't stop a daemon going at you full-bore, but between the runes and some fire, he figures the odds of a few hours of safe sleep are better than without. Prompto can't help but glance after Gladio, the scarred muscles against his back, before he kneels by the fire pit and gets to work.
After awhile, he has a flame going, feeding some kindling in it from his pack until he get can get it big enough to cast a warm glow across the haven's rock face. Sighing, Prompto levers up from his knees and cracks his back, wriggling out the kinks.