#scvtcheon

     “Ghhhhh -- c’mon Gladio... can’t you like, ‘dunno, track the thing a little faster? I’m getting super creeped out by this place...! It reeks of bad vibes, and it’s getting dark? That’s not a good combination!”

It’s a rarity, how the usually enthusiastic Prompto dwindled into a very anxious and quivering Prompto in a matter of half an hour. Normally, he liked hunts -- loved them. But with lead weighing down in his gut, as well as indecipherable dread, Prompto’s quick to assume the worst when he hears a nasty snarl -- and even moreso when his eyes can’t find the source of said snarl. Fear clutches at his rapid heartbeat, and Prompto stands perfectly still. A crackle a ways from the two hunters sets him on edge all over again, and with a suppressed yelp he’s behind Gladio like a shadow, his freckled face contorted with stress.

i love my little bro * looks at smudged writing on hand * prompthoe

get a room you two

      “ Hold on, you’re telling the story totally wrong. 

                       That's not even how I said it ! ”

OPPOSITION holds an art of the defensive; a strange resistance to a tale which holds much truth in its base, & yet he would let vague insecurity take hold of his tongue. Restriction of another’s word would come bearing a tug at his shoulder, a slight push, & a hop toward Gladio’s front. Arms are folded with haste against a black vest & tank & he speaks with complaint at his teeth. 

     “ C’mon, if you gotta tell it, tell it right ! 

             Plus ! I already know ! I was there !