@scvtcheon
“Ghhhhh -- c’mon Gladio... can’t you like, ‘dunno, track the thing a little faster? I’m getting super creeped out by this place...! It reeks of bad vibes, and it’s getting dark? That’s not a good combination!”
It’s a rarity, how the usually enthusiastic Prompto dwindled into a very anxious and quivering Prompto in a matter of half an hour. Normally, he liked hunts -- loved them. But with lead weighing down in his gut, as well as indecipherable dread, Prompto’s quick to assume the worst when he hears a nasty snarl -- and even moreso when his eyes can’t find the source of said snarl. Fear clutches at his rapid heartbeat, and Prompto stands perfectly still. A crackle a ways from the two hunters sets him on edge all over again, and with a suppressed yelp he’s behind Gladio like a shadow, his freckled face contorted with stress.
“D-Did you hear that? That wasn’t just me, right?” A pause, and then he’s whispering with panic clinging to his tone, “Can’t we just go back to camp already?!”
