It's a good thing Gladio holds onto his arm this time because when the Nif curative starts sizzling away, the first thing Prompto does is try to jerk it away. Since the other man's much stronger than he is, he doesn't manage to wrench his arm free even though he's totally hopped up on adrenaline. Next thing he does is immediately do what he was hoping he wouldn't: his head spasms back and if it wasn't for Gladio bracing for it, he probably would've cracked his skull square into his nose.

When the pain subsides, Prompto finds that he's gone limp as he pants softly against Gladio, relief coming with the numbness. Sure, it feels like his wrists are missing and he can't tell if his fingers are moving without glancing down, but he's glad it's over and done with. He shifts against Gladio's chest.

"Thanks, buddy. You did me a solid."

He turns his head, careful, so careful, not to hit Gladio. More than anything he wants to see a friendly face and seeing those long scars slashed across his face, the amber eyes that seem to pull you in even as they're crinkling at the edges with faint laugh lines. He looks up into those eyes, holds them, and he manages a grateful smile up at Gladio that he hopes can say everything words can't.