It feels like any other day in Duplicity, if he's honest. Brutally honest really, to a fault.
After having been there for a year, nothing seems to surprise him, and it's kind of taken the fun out of it. Even if it had been stressful, he'd sort of liked the ambiguity of it all—at first. Now, it's just a mesh of the same stuff every day, which is probably why he isn't as enthusiastic as usual about wandering through all the vendors and presentations currently happening. A glance to his left reveals some new sex potion, and a glance to his right has something to do with toys. Even after all this time, he's still never quite experimented with any of that. So, he skips it, shoving his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans as best he can and keeping his head down.
Maybe the way he feels still has something to do with the fact he keeps losing so many people he cares about. Friends, those who are more than friends. It's always been a tough pill to swallow, especially for him, and he's so trapped in his own thoughts that he almost misses the way someone shouts his name. ... what?
Prompto's head snaps up, gaze flicking through all the people swarming back and forth around him, and – oh. The fact that he's so tall probably helps him stick out more than usual. Or maybe it's the broadness of his shoulders? Prompto doesn't know exactly what to think, absolutely motionless in the middle of the crowd as his heart creeps its way into his throat. Is he seeing things? How long had it been since Gladio had been there? His fingers itch to immediately go to him and drag him away from whatever it is he's looking at, and yet – he's clearly not looking at him. So why had he said his name?
Finally snapping out of it, he moves towards him and barely catches the glimpse of his own face on someone else before trying to swallow the weird wave of anxiety that wells up in his throat. That's not real, he wants to say, but would he believe him? It's not like Gladio knows the truth, he thinks. At least, from the look of him this time, he might not. Which is why he forces himself to take a breath and slips around a few more people to get to Gladio and grab his hand like he's trying to force the leash free.
"Dude, that's not me." If it was... he'd hate to think he'd look so mindless, even that unclothed. There's a flush rising up into his face just thinking about it, and though it's impossible, he tries to nudge Gladio in the opposite direction. "Just leave it. Come on."
And he hates the way that sounds, like it's nothing more than the artificial skin that it is, but he'll have to think about that later.
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After having been there for a year, nothing seems to surprise him, and it's kind of taken the fun out of it. Even if it had been stressful, he'd sort of liked the ambiguity of it all—at first. Now, it's just a mesh of the same stuff every day, which is probably why he isn't as enthusiastic as usual about wandering through all the vendors and presentations currently happening. A glance to his left reveals some new sex potion, and a glance to his right has something to do with toys. Even after all this time, he's still never quite experimented with any of that. So, he skips it, shoving his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans as best he can and keeping his head down.
Maybe the way he feels still has something to do with the fact he keeps losing so many people he cares about. Friends, those who are more than friends. It's always been a tough pill to swallow, especially for him, and he's so trapped in his own thoughts that he almost misses the way someone shouts his name. ... what?
Prompto's head snaps up, gaze flicking through all the people swarming back and forth around him, and – oh. The fact that he's so tall probably helps him stick out more than usual. Or maybe it's the broadness of his shoulders? Prompto doesn't know exactly what to think, absolutely motionless in the middle of the crowd as his heart creeps its way into his throat. Is he seeing things? How long had it been since Gladio had been there? His fingers itch to immediately go to him and drag him away from whatever it is he's looking at, and yet – he's clearly not looking at him. So why had he said his name?
Finally snapping out of it, he moves towards him and barely catches the glimpse of his own face on someone else before trying to swallow the weird wave of anxiety that wells up in his throat. That's not real, he wants to say, but would he believe him? It's not like Gladio knows the truth, he thinks. At least, from the look of him this time, he might not. Which is why he forces himself to take a breath and slips around a few more people to get to Gladio and grab his hand like he's trying to force the leash free.
"Dude, that's not me." If it was... he'd hate to think he'd look so mindless, even that unclothed. There's a flush rising up into his face just thinking about it, and though it's impossible, he tries to nudge Gladio in the opposite direction. "Just leave it. Come on."
And he hates the way that sounds, like it's nothing more than the artificial skin that it is, but he'll have to think about that later.