hashtag_chocobro | Room 303; Tuesday Afternoon [11/27].

Prompto had a date.

And Prompto Argentum wasn't going to let some wire-chomping mouse cause him to miss out on a date.

Well, okay, it wasn't so much a date as it was that he'd made plans for a raiding night with Noct and Galdio during his shift at the C.I.C. that evening. Obviously, that exact thing wasn't going to be happening now, but he wouldn't let the current circumstances throw a big fat fried-mouse wrench in his plans and spoil something he'd been looking forward to since last week. Without an idea of how long the C.I.C. would even be out of commission, he had to think fast, act fast, and just be glad he'd been saving up his money instead of giving into the temptation to buy all sorts of new shinies every week.

He'd hooked himself up a preeeeetty sweet rig over there; he probably wasn't going to be able to perfectly replicated it in his room, but he knew he could cobble something together that would be more than efficient and satisfactory, and what his new room set-up lacked was easily something he could build on and improve on, and maybe he'd have an even better set-up given enough time and tweaking.

Setting it up had been pretty easy, too, that wasn't a problem. It was the set-up on the other thing he'd gotten that was giving him issues now.

Because of course he'd also gotten a pull-up bar.

And was realizing he had no real idea how to install it, which meant that he'd sort of delayed the original intention of the date with his bros back home, but they were still there on his phone as he tried to have Gladio (who he only knew hadn't died laughing yet because he was still laughing his butt off) walk him through it, figuring if anyone had experience installing a pull-up bar, it would be Gladio.

"You're just lucky," Prompto informed him loftily while making another attempt at what should honestly not be this difficult, maybe he got a cursed one or something, that seemed like it could be a thing around here, "you're not here right now, or else this pull-up bar would totally be re-purposed as a beat Gladio on the head bar.

"Not that there's anything up there to damage, anyway," he added in a murmur specifically intended to never be heard.

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Prompto...realized he didn't even know who the dead was.

"Yeah," he said, grinning over his shoulder, "but did you win? And sound pretty proud of yourself there, too, Princess. I got the game we did last week; you wanna run that same map again?"

Ah, 'Princess.' Nok and his crew were still so fresh on her mind these days that this time when Prompto said it, Vette couldn't help but think back to all the times Nok would call his daughter, Risha, that very same thing.

It was funny, she'd always wished somebody would call her the same.

"I am always proud of myself," Vette informed Prompto. You know. In a bald-faced lie that she knew he wouldn't buy for an instant. Even so, she grinned and pointed a finger gun at him. "You bet I'll kick your butt at that map again. Let's see if a week's made any difference."

A week where she'd been tearing up any target she could get her blasters or paintballs on, and he'd mostly just played with puppies.

Dead man walking, over here.

Again.

But he was determined to at least give her a run for her money.

"Pride before the fall," he chirped her words back at her, settling into his chair, kicking up his feet on the edge of the desk as he scrolled through the menues. "Pride before the fall, my friend."

Vette just grinned at him.

"Tell you what," she said, smiling sweetly. "After I kick your butt, I'll even help you hang that bar you tossed on your bed. As a consolation prize."

She adored you, Prompto, and tormented you to show she cared.

"What happens if I kick your butt?" Prompto had to venture, despite the fact that he was pretty sure it wasn't happening.

It would be pretty sweet if it did, and he had way more of a chance than he was giving himself credit for, but he wasn't exactly counting on it.

"Then I get to sit here and watch you hang that bar," Vette declared, "as a consolation prize. It sounded to me like your friends were having a great time with that."

Fair deal, right?

Prompto's mouth fell open with the beginning of a protest, closed as he realized the many flaws that existed in his argument, and then his head tilted as he also realized the general flaws in the concept as a whole.

"I don't think anyone can get that bar up," he decided to admit, shrugging slightly. "It's cursed. And I see right through your intentions, Vette. So concerned with me getting my pull-up bar up. You just can't stop thinking about these guns and making sure they're fine tuned and ready for all those hugs."

Maybe with a little subtle flexing, which was completely unnecessary for the taxing action of pushing a button on his controller.

"It's true," Vette said, lifting her free hand to hold it against her forehead in the beginnings of a gesture that was very nearly a swoon.

Except that she had very important shooting to do.

"You've found me out, Prompto. I have pretty high standards when it comes to hugs. Gotta make sure you continue to fit the bill."

Nah. She would totally hug him no matter what.

Room 303; Tuesday Afternoon [11/27].

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