[ Skeptical, as he hasn't done more than stand relatively near one beast and carriage pair, and refuse a ride. Besides, the Bauduin emblem would enable him to say with arguable truth that he's had his share of mega-legged horse adventures.
But he hasn't the chance. His docile mood makes him vulnerable to it, more amused by the notion of telling Prompto that he doesn't, actually, want to see, than serious in it. While debating it, lulled by the initially incremental nature of that approach, he's yet again an easy catch. ]
Wh --
[ By now he should have known better, but then, it's hardly been a repeat threat. Only the once, those months ago, and so much has passed between Gaelio and that man, there and in this fairy-tale place, that he feels in certain captured moments utterly dissimilar. As to what, instead, he's become -- not quite the man burned and buried, but not quite the patchwork man risen after -- he's unsure.
The question one that he can tuck away with the rest, beneath dream haze. Until presented with the picture.
But, first -- yanked down, a hard angle to align them, and telltale shutter sounds if only mimicked in audio. Thrown, he peers at the result, and it's more jarring than the mirror's reflection each day, the routine within that. Sunny blond beside baffled scars, and he's briefly jolted.
Then, a huff, pushing Prompto's arm off his shoulders. ]
I look ridiculous. Some cameraman.
[ yeah that's right he went there it's a holiday ]
no subject
[ Skeptical, as he hasn't done more than stand relatively near one beast and carriage pair, and refuse a ride. Besides, the Bauduin emblem would enable him to say with arguable truth that he's had his share of mega-legged horse adventures.
But he hasn't the chance. His docile mood makes him vulnerable to it, more amused by the notion of telling Prompto that he doesn't, actually, want to see, than serious in it. While debating it, lulled by the initially incremental nature of that approach, he's yet again an easy catch. ]
Wh --
[ By now he should have known better, but then, it's hardly been a repeat threat. Only the once, those months ago, and so much has passed between Gaelio and that man, there and in this fairy-tale place, that he feels in certain captured moments utterly dissimilar. As to what, instead, he's become -- not quite the man burned and buried, but not quite the patchwork man risen after -- he's unsure.
The question one that he can tuck away with the rest, beneath dream haze. Until presented with the picture.
But, first -- yanked down, a hard angle to align them, and telltale shutter sounds if only mimicked in audio. Thrown, he peers at the result, and it's more jarring than the mirror's reflection each day, the routine within that. Sunny blond beside baffled scars, and he's briefly jolted.
Then, a huff, pushing Prompto's arm off his shoulders. ]
I look ridiculous. Some cameraman.
[
yeah that's right he went there it's a holiday]