Prompto's mouth is dry. His brain's coming up with some pretty amazing mental pictures, just from those words alone. He squirms in his chair, and Gladio laughs. "Someone's interested." "So? I'm into it, what can I say." He shifts again. Even if he loses, there's no order he can think of that he won't love following – not from these guys. "Let's do it." "I'm in," says Noct, not a beat of hesitation. "And I," says Ignis. "So deal already," says Gladio – and Ignis does, long fingers steady and sure on the cards.

"Specs has the spare," Noct breathes, and Prompto, eyes wide with terror, vaults off him and to the other corner of the couch. He yanks the throw blanket off the couch's back and onto his lap, not an instant too soon. Because the door clicks open and then there's Ignis, toeing off his shoes and stepping into the entryway. "Good evening," he says, pleasant and mild. "Hey," Noct answers, pretending at indifference. "Hi," squeaks Prompto, face a remarkable shade of red.