@catclawer
Gladio had already eaten the prepared meals Ignis had left them in the ice chest, both his and Prompto’s portions. He’d reasoned as he cracked open the plastic containers that the “use by” dates were due to expire by tomorrow, and seeing as how Prompto was as unlikely to show up to eat them, it was an economical decision on his part and not at all a nostalgia-fueled melancholy alleviated by the shame of overindulgence.
And then came the wave of guilt for having robbed Prompto out of his own portion, then the realization that it was an offense likely never to be found out, much less receive chastisement for. But it was a realization that suddenly made the cramped apartment seem that much more lonely, and his waiting presence there, like some sort of wraith, that much more pathetic.
And that was how he found himself at the corner pub, slipping into a stool next to some dark haired indigent sipping on something dark and no doubt potent. The twin guns at his hips didn’t escape his note, and he eyed them suspiciously for a moment, before the barback had returned with his bourbon. “Nice looking weapons,” he commented, the brim of his glass already touched to his lip. “Hunter, yeah? You from Lestallum or just passing through? Not too much to be found here, if you are. Just a warning.”
