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[photoshooter]

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[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!