[It's okay, Prompto. He keeps that nice, firm grip on the back of your neck and says nothing, as if he hadn't heard a single embarrassing word.
Until you look at his face and he's got the smuggest smirk anyone has ever seen. Just pointedly staring at their goal, now visible down the street trying his damnedest best not to take that opening and run with it until Prompto inevitably decides to never leave his room again.]
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Until you look at his face and he's got the smuggest smirk anyone has ever seen. Just pointedly staring at their goal, now visible down the street trying his damnedest best not to take that opening and run with it until Prompto inevitably decides to never leave his room again.]