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[photoshooter]

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[whichcraft]

It's not like we're some alien species. If you have to talk differently to a girl than you do to everyone else, well. She's never really meeting the you that matters, is she?

[She smiles, a little ruefully, but with genuine sentiment behind it.]

Take it from someone who's been a dozen different people. Feels a lot better to just be yourself.

[photoshooter]

Heh. You're probably right. I guess it's something I'm working on.

[He strolls along, self-conscious in the way that he's conscious of himself: the lines of contact where her palm touches his, the way his arms swing differently because one of them's holding hands with her, his footsteps on the cobblestones. It feels like they've been walking forever, in a way. It feels like he could've walked home with her every day of his life.

He rubs under his nose, then waves his pointer vaguely at the sky.]

Hey, you know? I've been thinking about it, and I don't think it's spring at all. I mean, look how long the days are, right?

[whichcraft]

...Yeah?

[There's a tiny little twist in the pit of her stomach, a little jump that's always there whenever someone innocently mentions the seasons. It's the sort of tell she's long since learned not to show, but showing and feeling are two very different things.

Outwardly, she's calm, but all of a sudden her nerves are starting to buzz, drawing out of the sleepy contentment she'd been settling into as she starts to pay careful attention again, the way she always does when she senses something coming, something important.]

I guess you're right. In spring it'd be more like fifty-fifty, but these days it's light late. That's...not a spring phenomenon.

[photoshooter]

Yeah.

[He glances at her after a moment, but then faces forward again.]

Noct has a summer birthday. End of August. I wonder if we're getting close.

[Then he turns again, brightening and bouncing their hands.]

Hey, when's yours? Your birthday!

[whichcraft]

[There it is again. There, again, for the second time, and this time she didn't even have to trick him into doing it — he just did it on his own, like a gift, unthinking, summer.

It's so much of a coincidence that she can't help but wonder if it's intentional, if he really knows. If he saw the card and remembered it, after all. If that's what he's doing now, in a weird sort of charming roundabout way that lets her believe that maybe he hadn't.

Or maybe she's being paranoid.]

Oh — really? Huh. We're month twins, then. I'm the thirteenth, August thirteenth.

[photoshooter]

Really?

[HEYYO]

We should have a party! We'll make cake! I'm sure we can make cake. Or we'll stick some candles in a tub of ice cream! There'll be presents! It'll be great!

[Prompto punches the air on the last note. You can't spell PARTY(OMPTO) without PROMPTO!

Is this the guileless face of a boy who would offer such a complicated double mobius reacharound kind of kindness? Tosh, my dear Sum R M.]

[whichcraft]

[IT'S HARD WHEN YOU'RE THE WORLD'S MOST PARANOID FUCK, YOU DON'T KNOW UP FROM DOWN ANYMORE

oh my god she's the vriska to his john what even]

...Hang on, aren't you forgetting something? Quid pro quo, Mr. Silver, when's your birthday?

[photoshooter]

[Well........ (that's eight dots)





She'd be right, though. Blond Egbert wins this round.]

Not till the end of October. October twenty-fifth.

[Remember who the true Scorpio here is, summer child.]

[whichcraft]

Ooo. A week before Halloween.

[That's easy to remember. Which is good, because she's making a mental note of it.]

Do you guys do Halloween, where you're from? Do you have it, I mean, or is it like geese?

[photoshooter]

I'm not sure what that is, so I guess it's like geese. Buuuuut I'm guessing it's not a bird that'll bite off your dick? I mean, I don't think dick-eating birds go in big for scheduling.

[Michael Mell should not be allowed to teach Prompto things about Earth.]

[whichcraft]

Halloween is like...a kid's favorite holiday except for maybe Christmas. You're supposed to dress up in costumes and go around house to house knocking on doors and shaking people down for free candy, and they're socially obligated to give it to you.

[Although there is something pleasantly refreshing about hearing the word "dick" repeated this many times in a short sitting. Kind of like being back with the boys all over again.]

I don't recall mentioning geese as being dick-eating in particular, either, so who else in this dump has been telling you stories about geese?

[photoshooter]

This kid named Michael. He's nice, he let me play video games at his... place thing. You know, last week. I bet you'd like him, he's funny, but I think he's still in high school. Dunno if that makes it weird to hang out. He's from... New Jersey?

[He vaguely remembers asking about New Jersey.]

Do they have this Halloween thing in New Jersey, too? He made it seem like New Jersey was sort of weird.

[whichcraft]

New Jersey is the armpit of its geographical region. If a nation were a body, Jersey would absolutely be the rank post-gym class armpit.

[That's presumably a yes.]

I'm trying to think of a good descriptor and I just keep coming back to "Jersey Shore takes place in New Jersey" but you don't know what Jersey Shore is either.

[photoshooter]

Theeeeeeeeeee shore of New Jersey?

[whichcraft]

It's a reality TV show about disaster people living together and engaging in a perpetual lifestyle of postpubescent drama.

[photoshooter]

Oh, ew. Like Livin' Lestallum. Say no more.

[whichcraft]

...I'm weirdly relieved that some things apparently never change, no matter where you go.

[It gets a laugh out of her, too, and she takes her turn at swinging their hands a little before abruptly giving his arm a tug.]

Hey. You should give me a piggyback ride.

[photoshooter]

Haha, what? Why?

[He stops, though, the grin from his laugh still there.]

How far you wanna go?

[whichcraft]

I dunno! I just want to. You're strong, right? You haul around bazookas and everything. C'monnnnn, please? It'll be fun. ...For me.

[Her expression is the dictionary definition of "Pretty Pretty Please".]

It doesn't even have to be that far. Pleeeeease?

[photoshooter]

Bazookas are only like eighteen pounds!

[But he's already letting go of her hand so he can turn, bending a little and offering her his back, waggling his hands at her from his sides.]

Well? C'mon, I don't think I can make it that far!

[whichcraft]

Are you saying I'm fat?

[She's already on her way, though, and it quickly becomes apparent that this is something she's highly familiar with — she's deft and practiced in the way she hops onto his back without kicking him or landing oddly, and easily falls into place with her arms draped over his shoulders and her head turned slightly to the side so that she can see past his.

She's definitely not eighteen pounds, but she's also lighter than one might expect; the cloak and the armor add the appearance of volume, but fundamentally she is in fact a slight, noodly girl — possibly a little bit too light, even, given her height.]

I'm good! I'm good when you are!

[photoshooter]

Oof.

[He staggers a little, because Flora might be an extra-fine noodle, but Prompto is, too. Then he shifts, secures his footing, and chuckles.]

...Kweeeh!

[And off he goes at a wobbling trot. Once he finds a sustainable rhythm, he starts to hum, and then to sing:]

I want to ride my chocobo all day, do doo dododoo do doo...!

[whichcraft]

You have a song?!

[WHEE. Off they go — and off Summer goes, privately relishing the free opportunity to soak up some human body contact without having to deal with the embarrassment of outright asking for a hug.]

Not bad, Mr. Quick!