[It takes a moment, but that, of all things, finally gets him to look up, to meet her eyes across the road in the dark. If her promise is the funhouse mirror version of reassurance, Prompto must be kind of funny, because he is reassured, in a way. He's still scared, he's still repulsed by his own body, he's still shuddering away from himself.
But at least he doesn't have to be frightened for her. She'll be safe.]
...Okay. I'm coming.
[Slowly and gingerly, Prompto gets up and makes his way towards her. There they are: furred, pointed ears, pressed low to his skull; golden fur up his hands and forearms; a tail tucked low, low, low.
He stops when he's close enough to see but not to touch, eyes cast down again, trembling despite all that thick, warm fur.]
no subject
But at least he doesn't have to be frightened for her. She'll be safe.]
...Okay. I'm coming.
[Slowly and gingerly, Prompto gets up and makes his way towards her. There they are: furred, pointed ears, pressed low to his skull; golden fur up his hands and forearms; a tail tucked low, low, low.
He stops when he's close enough to see but not to touch, eyes cast down again, trembling despite all that thick, warm fur.]
...H. Hi.