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[daemonized]

ARDYN IZUNIA

Ardyn Izunia. Professor of law. Lord of law. Liege of law. The one grading your papers. Leave a message.

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[daemonized]

...So do I.

[He feels inadequate, that being the only consolation he can give. "So do I." But it's all he can offer, really; just a mode of comfort, a pillar to lean on when Prompto feels as if he's lost someone precious to him.]

Cling to hope. That's the only advice I can give you. In the meanwhile, would you like to stay here? If you can claim the couch before Fynn, I won't let him relocate you later when he returns.

[Fynn will just have to settle for some other place in the house. There's a small couch in one of his studies, so he can manage there, he thinks.]

[mercurio]

[he sits up quickly at that, erebus climbing from his arms to his shoulders (at least, that's what ardyn can assume, since prompto still keeps his back to him). orange cat eyes look over at ardyn as prompto does nothing but softly brush his fingers over the cat's back and tail.]

Fynn's still staying here?

[prompto adds with casual humour in his voice, rubbing at his eyes quickly, trying to play it cool.]

Guess we'll be roommates now, huh?

[but he falters into silence]

... do you remember-- [and stops himself] Hm. It's fine. I'll take the couch.

[daemonized]

He is. You know how he can be; impulsive with his spending, to the point where he's become something of a permanent fixture in this home now.

[But that's said more in humor than actual criticism. He can put Fynn on blast some other day. Prompto faltering like that diverts his attention, anyway.]

Do I remember what?

[mercurio]

[he sways on the spot, elbows on his knees; it's clear even if ardyn can't see his face that he's debating with himself whether to go ahead and answer the question, or not at all. it's tough because he wants to put a name to the situation, a concrete, clear proof that he's been harbouring pain and grief deep inside for months.]

[...his chest hurts, again, as prompto tries his best to push down his miserable feelings.]

[it begins with a hitched, quiet attempt at syllables] Noc- Noct...

[coughing, he starts again]

Noctis... Caelum. He was, in your class, before.

[daemonized]

[It's worrisome, the way that Prompto won't say whatever it is that lingers on his tongue. Ardyn wonders for a moment if he should've pressed at all, if he should've spared Prompto the obvious pain of whatever it is the young man is thinking.

But then he says it anyway, and the professor immediately understands why it had been so hard. Noctis Caelum. Yes, he remembers him. And he knows that by Prompto saying his name, he's making all of this probably feel more real, more painful, than he wants it to be.]

...Yes. I remember him.

[A smart young man, though not very motivated. Hard to forget, with a name like that. Prone to falling asleep in class, or letting his attentions wander elsewhere.

He was the one, then?]

I'm sorry, Prompto.

[mercurio]

[prompto shrugs, not to try and make light of ardyn's words, but because he doesn't want to make himself more upset than what he already is.]

It's not your fault.

[and noctis isn't dead anyway. there's nothing to apologise for.]

...it's no one's fault.

[no matter that at times he feels sick and guilty that it took him nearly twenty-four hours to check on noctis, that fateful day, back in february.]

[erebus climbs out of prompto's hold, hopping right off his back, and jumping up onto ardyn's lap. such is the nature of cats.]

He's... pretty lazy, sure, but he's a strong guy. He'll ... he'll make it out of this.

[daemonized]

If you have faith in your friend, then so do I.

[That's the strength he can offer, he thinks. To bolster Prompto's hope with his own.

Silence lingers a bit longer, and Ardyn lets Erebus jump into his lap without so much as a blink. Seems like he's gotten used to the habits of cats by now.]

Do you need anything else? Have you eaten yet?

[mercurio]

[prompto pushes himself up to stand, straightening his legs with a bit of a stretch. he wants to say he's fine, that he doesn't need anything else. but as he brings himself to turn around--no tears!--even without making eye contact, he can't help the awkward stance; holding his arm into a hand.]

...I could do with a sandwich.

[he's hungry]