Prompto stared, and stared, and stared. Gentiana only smiled. “Let me clarify some things,” he started. “I’m a favorite of the, um, the Six?” “Our Most Beloved,” Gentiana repeated. “Right,” said Prompto. “And because you knew I’d be lonely and, and depressed after Noct brought the sun back, you – brought me to a parallel universe??” “Yes,” said Gentiana, ever patient. Prompto needed a drink. Or twelve.

Noctis wakes to the taste of something foul in his mouth, to the wet stone and hum of a haven underneath him; he wakes with a shuddering gasp, fingers grasping at the area where his father’s sword pierced his chest, only to find the soft beams of sunlight washing over him, and his deathly injuries no longer there. A boon, little king, Shiva had said, before she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. Then, a few spaces away from him, Prompto sputters and coughs a raspy but undoubtedly heated, “WHAT THE FUCK?” Privately, Noctis echoes the sentiment. What the fuck.

Prompto was sitting on a concrete barrier nearby, cleaning his camera lens. He looked up as Noctis approached. "Got what we need?" he said, tone neutral. Noctis shrugged, puzzled. "No luck. Shop's closed." He looked back over his shoulder. "Apparently some kid robbed them blind just a while ago. They're still sorting things out." Prompto tapped his foot, ducking and adjusting a dial. "Huh. That's weird. It was open when I went yesterday," he said. (The bros, unbeknownst to Noct, sometimes have to do some less-than-wholesome things for his sake. Kinkmeme fill, complete.)