[It occurs to him in a brief, intuitive flash, that she touches her face the way he holds his wrist; Prompto dismisses the thought, decides he's making too much of it, but the thought's only reshelved to the back, not thrown away.]

Flor...

[No one ever leans on him for comfort. He offers it, it's taken, but no one ever seeks it out, not from him.

Hesitantly, like he's afraid she might flutter away like a blue jay herself, he reaches across himself and rubs at her arm through the cloak.]

I'm sorry. I know that... mmnh. [Prompto cuts himself off, closes his eyes, shakes his head. He doesn't know anything. He doesn't know her friends.] I--I don't know. I don't know them. But even in a ragtag team, it... it hurts when someone is missing. I bet they wanted to.

I just said, right? I've only known you a couple weeks, and I'd want to.