[ It's a surprising amount of ferocity, one he can't exactly say he's used to but wants to commend nonetheless. He's been trying for years to get the guy to come out of his shell a little bit. Of course, he does have to wonder if this place has anything to do with the change, considering the kinds of effects it's even managed to have on him over the last few months.
At the very least, they meet each other's smiles eventually, though Gladio's is half-cocked and maybe just a bit too sentimental after so much time on his own, without even another hint of any of the others. Of course, that doesn't mean he's quite about to let his guard down, especially knowing what the food is capable of. ]
Birds?
[ There are at least half a dozen questions he could provide in answer to that, while he mind reels for some grasp on just what Prompto might even be talking about. They're cut short, however, by a sudden, quick-footed tackle.
On any other ground, it would be an easy win for Gladio. On sand, however, and coupled with that tenacious spark, Prompto does manage to best him—probably for the first time ever—and the pair of them topple like a brick wall, with Gladio taking the brunt of the fall as he lands square on his back. His breath leaves him in a choked heave, and instinct has him actually wrapping his other arm around Prompto, to make sure he lands safely on him instead of under him. The skewer, however, is a casualty, for better or for worse; the sticky sweet coating of sauce is a perfect trap for the briny sand of the beach as he drops it.
His smile is gone now, and while he isn't so much grumpy as irritated, his brow is low and stern enough to warn of far worse than he actually means to promise. ]
We can talk about tits later. Did you take a bite of that?
no subject
At the very least, they meet each other's smiles eventually, though Gladio's is half-cocked and maybe just a bit too sentimental after so much time on his own, without even another hint of any of the others. Of course, that doesn't mean he's quite about to let his guard down, especially knowing what the food is capable of. ]
Birds?
[ There are at least half a dozen questions he could provide in answer to that, while he mind reels for some grasp on just what Prompto might even be talking about. They're cut short, however, by a sudden, quick-footed tackle.
On any other ground, it would be an easy win for Gladio. On sand, however, and coupled with that tenacious spark, Prompto does manage to best him—probably for the first time ever—and the pair of them topple like a brick wall, with Gladio taking the brunt of the fall as he lands square on his back. His breath leaves him in a choked heave, and instinct has him actually wrapping his other arm around Prompto, to make sure he lands safely on him instead of under him. The skewer, however, is a casualty, for better or for worse; the sticky sweet coating of sauce is a perfect trap for the briny sand of the beach as he drops it.
His smile is gone now, and while he isn't so much grumpy as irritated, his brow is low and stern enough to warn of far worse than he actually means to promise. ]
We can talk about tits later. Did you take a bite of that?