[Why? Prompto wants to ask, eyes scrunching a little in confusion or reluctance. It's not something he likes to see.
But it's way less horrible to reveal than the truth he already shared. It's just skin. And ink, or something. Not like looking at all those hairless other hims in tubes. Not like hearing an old man's voice quickly twist with madness over time.]
Sure. I guess.
[First, though, he settles Sparky in his lap once more, scritching his fingers quickly through his feathers and bending to kiss his sweet little head. Here he is, buddy, Dad's fine. Only once that's done does he turn his arm over to tug at the buckle of his wristband, does he move the leather away from pale, unfreckled skin.
He offers Noct his wrist, showing him the black bars and meaningless strings of letters and numbers stamped on the back. NH-01987 on one side. 0006-0204 on the other. The scanner in the research facility called him some other number, he doesn't even remember.]
It's not really that exciting. [He shrugs, sort of stiffly, sort of resigned.] Kind of like groceries, right?
no subject
But it's way less horrible to reveal than the truth he already shared. It's just skin. And ink, or something. Not like looking at all those hairless other hims in tubes. Not like hearing an old man's voice quickly twist with madness over time.]
Sure. I guess.
[First, though, he settles Sparky in his lap once more, scritching his fingers quickly through his feathers and bending to kiss his sweet little head. Here he is, buddy, Dad's fine. Only once that's done does he turn his arm over to tug at the buckle of his wristband, does he move the leather away from pale, unfreckled skin.
He offers Noct his wrist, showing him the black bars and meaningless strings of letters and numbers stamped on the back. NH-01987 on one side. 0006-0204 on the other. The scanner in the research facility called him some other number, he doesn't even remember.]
It's not really that exciting. [He shrugs, sort of stiffly, sort of resigned.] Kind of like groceries, right?