In fact it took them two days to get to Taelpar, even downhill and riding. Those two days began to edge into three after their remaining chocobos abruptly decided their rental periods were up and unceremoniously freed themselves of their burdensome riders by way of a pair of sturdy, low-hanging branches and some rather impressive nonverbal coordination, in Prompto's humble opinion, on the part of beasts with literal bird brains. By the time they staggered into the Taelpar rest area, exhausted and footsore, it was two in the morning, the diner was closed, and not even Ignis, king of efficiency and carpe-ing the life out of every diem, could bring himself to slay one more daemon that night.

So they found a grassy spot at the edge of the floodlight circle, threw down their few battered possessions that were now far more "worse" than they were "wear," and played roughly twelve desultory games of Go Fish until The Crow's Nest opened. By then, they were so done in Prompto couldn't even enjoy his pancakes. Besides which, breakfast for dinner definitely lost a bit of its sparkle after multiple weeks of nocturnal living.

Which was why, two more days plus some change later, Prompto was blissfully enjoying a double cheeseburger for the first time in four years, for what most people would call lunch, but probably actually counted as a midnight snack for him.

Make that four double cheeseburgers. He'd promised Noct, after all, and one didn't break promises when it came to one's friends. Especially when their friends were kings.

"Ohhemgee I'm in greasy heavennnnn," Prompto moaned, rocking back blissfully as he took an incautiously enormous bite.

Gladio glanced over from the arcades, where he was working his way through a jumbo order of fries with one hand and stabbing at the controls with the other. "Prompto, are you crying?"

"No," Prompto defensively replied, blinking rapidly. "The sun's just really bright. And the spicy sauce is making my eyes water. Look it's just really good and so what if I am I haven't had a burger in like an eon okay?"

Noct was sitting across from him, the bruising from what had ended up being a broken nose having spread, over the course of several days, to the tender skin beneath his eyes—the discoloration still faintly visible despite the fact that Ignis had been systematically pumping them full of enough potions to clean out a pharmacy. (Prompto knew this because shortly after Ignis announced he was going out to pick up a few "trifles," they had watched Taelpar's curatives vendor drive away in her empty truck, looking somewhat at a loss.) Even with the treatments, Prompto, himself still felt much like a punching bag that had been tossed out of an airship into a cactuar family reunion; he was pretty sure he had bruises hidden underneath his bruises.

Noct, for his part, was somehow managing to slouch heavily on the shiny red vinyl of the booth seat without looking like a total lout, a skill Prompto found vaguely unfair. But then, he couldn't recall having seen his best friend actually lounge, slump, or otherwise relax since they were twenty the first time. Not like he used to, anyway, when they were still pretty much just a bunch of kids on a glorified bachelor party road trip. Prompto supposed it was something that came along with millennia-old prophecies and ten years spent sleeping in a rock, right along with crazy badass powers and kingliness in general.

One thing Noct hadn't lost was his occasionally judgey stare. "Are you really going to eat all four of those, Prompto?"

"Why, do you want one?" Prompto asked, pronouncing it more like "mfhh, mfhph mfhph-mpfh" due to the fact that one-fourth of his entire meal was now in his mouth. Chewing vigorously until he could swallow again, he nodded toward the cash register. "Jerry can help you out with that, if you ask him real nice."

"I'm sure," Noct muttered, casting Jerry an unfairly distrustful look. "He'd just hand one right over, wouldn't he."

"Hey Noct, you gonna come finish this game or what?" Gladio interrupted, the ubiquitous beeps and bloops of the arcade having petered out into a forlorn chorus of defeat. "I'm getting my ass handed to me over here trying to play for both of us."

"When did you say Ignis was getting back, again?" Noct asked. He unpeeled himself from the bench with a final, unreadable look at Prompto's plate and stepped over to join his Shield.

"Oh, you know…" Prompto said, and hastily stuffed another burger in his mouth. "Mphh mm-mm mphhh."

Gladio threw Prompto a quick but savage glare that thoroughly belied his casual reply. "Should be any time now."

"It's just that he's been gone on this 'herb collecting expedition' for over a day now," Noct said, his gaze flitting piercingly between them. "And he left alone, at night. Correct me if I'm remembering this wrong, but last time I even hinted at going off into the dark by myself, Gladio threatened to start following me everywhere, including—but not limited to!—the bathroom."

"It was like, ten minutes to dawn," Prompto said, as Gladio returned to the game with suspiciously renewed enthusiasm, "and he rented that big rugged-looking chocobo that was probably the great-grandchild of our own erstwhile 'bo who may or may not have taken out a dread behemoth, but also more mannerly."

"He'll be fine," Gladio added, his gaze pinned to the flashing screen. "What wouldn't be is us if Iggy had to go one more week without his ingredients."

"Or his body wash or his pomade or his lint roller," Prompto added. "He probably took a little detour to find a store better than all the ones we don't have here."

"Uh-huh," Noct said, fixing them with a look that could have petrified a Nagarani.

"MAN it'll be great when we can sleep in real beds again, amirite guys?" Prompto gushed, and if his voice was a tad bit shrill, nobody was about to call him out on it, as Gladio was studiously focused on the sprite jumping about on his display. "I think it should be a cause for celebration. Y'know, when that day finally arrives. Oh, that totes reminds me. Here, Noct." He pulled a stiff paper bag out from under the table and passed it over to his friend.

Noct took it tentatively, frowning at its unexpected heft. He eyed Prompto suspiciously. "Prom, if this is that bucket of worms, I told you that as much as I appreciate the gesture, the streams out here are better for lures, and I don't really have a way to store—"

He broke off, his eyes going wide as he reached into the bag. Carefully, he removed the object within, turning it over in his hands. "Wait, is this—?"

"Your very own shiny, new and improved hookshot," Prompto finished for him, watching his face closely. "I know how much you've missed warping, and what a kick you got out of tearing around the rooftops with Ignis back in Altissia. So I've been collecting pieces as we've traveled. And I used to have a buncha friends in this area because I spent a lot of time here, back in our future life, so I asked to borrow some tools from a hunter I sometimes hang out with—or hung—wait, will hang? But here she wouldn't know me from Gilgamesh, and is def thinking I'm just some random dude wanting to use her stuff but is cool enough to let me, which is pretty much why we became—I mean will become—pals. Anyway," he said, pausing just long enough to breathe, "she lives right up there along the highway, so I was able to finish it up this morning. And unlike your original edition, this one's got built-in structural support and locking pads that'll keep you from dislocating your shoulder as you go flying around like a blitzed zu with no regard for life or limb like we all honestly know you will."

"Prompto, that's…" Noct trailed off, his fingers caressing the smooth metal and fitted joints. His previous disgruntlement had melted into surprised gratitude, a soft, happy expression that warmed something deep in Prompto's chest. Noct didn't smile nearly enough anymore. "I can hardly believe the workmanship. You've always been good at tinkering, but this is a whole new level."

"Aw, shucks," Prompto said, unable to stop the blush he knew was lighting up his entire head. "Well, turns out you can learn a thing or two over the course of a decade, go figure. Cindy helped with a lot of that. There's plenty of things needing fixing when you're living in a daemon apocalypse."

Gladio abandoned his rapidly deteriorating game to join them. "Nice work there, Prompto," he said approvingly, despite the fact that he'd already seen it. "Oh hey, you mind if I snag one of these? no? Thanks." Before Prompto could protest, Gladio had reached around his shoulder to snatch up one of his two remaining burgers.

"Not cool, man," Prompto groused, throwing a handful of ketchup packets at the back of his head. "That was a literal declaration of war. I hope you're ready for a throwdown, Big Guy, because we're having this out in the parking lot, right now, just you and me, with the Kenny Crow statue as our witness. Oh, and Noct—I guess he can come too."

"You…want me to watch Gladio pulverize you in the parking lot?" Noct asked, somewhat uncertainly, still cradling his hookshot. "Am I the cleanup crew?"

"C'mon, Noct, where's the love?" Prompto complained. "Why would you automatically assume I'd lose? Some BFF you are..."

"He's only speaking the truth as written in the Cosmogonies," Gladio said, a few crumbs tumbling from his mouth. "Didn't you read that section? 'On this day in the year 756 ME, the mighty Shield flattens yon brazen blond pipsqueak in the dwellingplace of the crow.'"

"Okay, Gentiana," Prompto said, rolling his eyes. "We'll see. C'mon, Noct." Hooking his arm through his friend's, Prompto dragged him toward the door, shoving his way past a group of hunters coming in for a claim, if the bits of monster entrails and ichor clinging to their clothes were anything to go by.

"Um...are we really doing this?" Noct asked, glancing ever more frantically between the two as Gladio fell in alongside them, nudging him through the door from behind. "Because this is definitely not an Ignis-approved activity. If he comes back to find you two wailing on each other in the parking lot, just know that I'm gonna be down in Daurell Caverns, safely tucked away with the Necromancers."

"Spoken with the true wisdom of a king," Ignis said, rather smugly, from beside the door, causing Noct to nearly phase out of his skin. Which was a real accomplishment, since he couldn't phase anymore. "And while I don't typically condone bloodshed in the car park," he continued, "in this case it was merely a ruse to lure you outside, Noct—if a rather half-arsed one, from what I overheard."

"Hey, we just barely saw you pull in," Prompto protested. "I thought it was pretty good for being as off-the-cuff as it was. And I kind of really do want to gut-punch Gladio for stealing my burger."

"A ruse to… What? Why couldn't you just—" Noct broke in, exasperated. Then his eyes landed on the chrome and leather masterpiece parked in front of the motel.

He stopped short. "The Regalia!"

Before Ignis even got the chance to finish smirking, Noct had broken into a run. Bounding across the potholed span of concrete that stretched between the diner and the motel, he skidded to a halt alongside their much-missed ride, brushing his hand lovingly along a fender. Prompto wondered if Luna, wherever she was, felt a sudden unexplained pang of indignation.

"How— Did you go back to Caem? Why didn't you tell me? They said your trip was strictly botanical!" Noct exclaimed, turning an outraged gaze Prompto and Gladio's way.

"I had quite a bit of shopping to take care of out in Old Lestallum, and didn't want to bore you," Ignis breezily replied, joining him next to the car. "Now, that being said, we will need to proceed carefully if we're taking to the roads again. I suggest we leave for Hammerhead first thing tonight to have some custom work done—make the Regalia somewhat less recognizable. Reports of Imperials in this area have been few and far between, but there's certainly no guarantee of it remaining that way.

"Now then. I believe we have some business to attend to. This," he said, rummaging around in the trunk and finally emerging with a long, cloth-wrapped bundle, "is for you."

"For me?" Noct frowned, accepting it gingerly. He unwound the wrappings to reveal a basic but well-constructed rune saber, gleaming in the sunlight.

"It's certainly no Balmung, but will serve you far better than your stolen Imperial cutlery until the day we can finally afford something more suited to your experience," Ignis said. He leaned against the car, folding his arms in satisfaction.

Noct turned the blade over in his hands, testing its weight. "Geez, you guys, all these surprises today," he said with a huff of laughter. "What is it, my birthday?"

There was a short silence.

"Told you he forgot," Gladio said.

"What?" Noct looked up at them, frowning.

"Yes, it's your birthday, you big dork!" Prompto said, hardly able to stay silent another moment. Like it hadn't been bad enough waiting around for Ignis all day—it was pretty much literal torture watching Noct putter about in clueless oblivion on a day that should have been structured around cake and inebriation. "You're either twenty-one or thirty-one, depending on your mood I guess. Except it's not like you were in the crystal for exactly ten years, so does that mean we have to add a few weeks? Wait, did we actually miss your thirty-first? I need to rethink this..."

"Thirty-one will suffice, I should think, though let's be sure to keep it twenty-one around Iris and the like," Ignis said.

"My birthday?…It's…What?" Noct exclaimed in a great show of royally trained articulation, looking flabbergasted.

"One more, from me," Gladio said, unrolling the jacket he'd had tucked beneath his arm. Inside it was a leather sheath, hand sewn with precise, even stitching and oiled to a shine. An adjustable harness allowed Noct to strap it to his back and release it again with ease. "Never needed one of these while you had the armiger, but I think it's well past time you got something better than blanket scraps holding your weapon in place."

Noct accepted the sheath with reverence. He laughed slightly in embarrassment, a pleased blush appearing at the tops of his cheeks, and shoved his hair back from his face. "Gods, you guys. I haven't thought about my birthday in years. I can hardly believe this. Thanks..."

"Yeah, I'm sure in some ways it did feel like forever," Prompto sympathized, barely registering the way Ignis' gaze had suddenly sharpened. "I know it did for us. We celebrated your birthday every year, y'know. Couldn't always get together for it, but if not, we'd call, and at least one of us usually managed to scrounge up some cake. Or something resembling it, anyway."

Noct had gone still. "You did?" he said, his voice soft.

"Yep," Gladio confirmed, whapping him on the back. "Speaking of cake..."

"Yes, about that," Ignis said, sounding suddenly aggrieved. "When I departed Old Lestallum this morning it was still too early for confections at the bakeries. A miscalculation on my part, I'm afraid. Not that I much trust the offerings of these mediocre establishments, anyhow...probably wouldn't know a macaron from a macaroon if one boffed them in the face with an egg beater..."

Abruptly he shook his head and returned from whatever high-hat dreamland of bourgeois indignation he'd floated off to. "But that is neither here nor there. We are now the proud owners of both a sparkling new camp stove and a bevy of fresh ingredients, so if you don't mind staying up just a bit later I'll have something whipped up shortly—"

"Hold that thought, Iggy," Prompto broke in excitedly. "We've got ya covered!"

Dashing back into the diner, nearly flattening a hunter with a flying glass door in the process, he gave Jerry the secret sign. Hopping the bar, he disappeared into the kitchen, bouncing back out a moment later with what could probably best be described as a plate full of misappropriated breakfast but that he and Gladio were choosing to call a cake. After a bit of buttering up, pleading, and maybe a few handfuls of gil they had carelessly left on the counter, Jerry had been happy enough to let them back into the kitchen to repurpose some of the breakfast leftovers. The result was a birthday dessert comprised of doughnuts and cold pancakes, layered together and glued in place with butter, doused in cheap syrup, and sprinkled, for good measure, with what may or may not have been the crumble filched from a packaged gas station strudel.

"Happy birthday, Noct," Prompto said. With a pleased grin, he shoved the cake into his friend's arms.

"Wow, guys, this is…really great," Noct said, treading on Ignis' foot, who seemed to have frozen into a paroxysm of horror. "Chocolate with sprinkles are my favorite."

"We know," Prompto replied, beaming.

"But how are we even affording all these things, Specs?" Noct asked. Carefully peeling a syrup-drowned doughnut from the pile, he offered the plate to Gladio. "I thought we were just about cleaned out."

Ignis shook his head with an expression like he'd been handed a moldering carp as Gladio passed the cake on to him, muttering something about "substandard sugar water" and "affront to the noble maple." Replying to Noct, he said, "You'll recall we've spent virtually all of the past two weeks slaying daemons. As it turns out, many of those already resided on the local bounty listings, most notably the Red Giants that gave us so much trouble up in the mountains." He patted his wallet, tucked away in his noticeably newer, cleaner trousers. "Between that, the bounty we collected in Galdin, and the spot of rare items we gathered along the way, we've earned enough to replace our camping supplies, your sword, Gladio's shield, and the potion treatments for you and Prompto. I daresay we've even acquired enough for a room tonight. Er, today, that is."

"A room?" Prompto repeated, his voice quavering. "Is it my birthday too? Or are we finally just getting that whole 'happily ever after' thing that comes once all the crappy parts are taken care of?"

"It is not your birthday, Prompto," Ignis replied, "but I suppose you might consider this an early gift if you wish." Slipping his hand into a shiny plastic bag, he pulled out a selection of compact, plain-looking phones and dropped one into Prompto's hand.

It was a basic model, probably suitable for calls and texts and not much else. But Prompto was feeling much like a shipwreck survivor who'd lived most of his life on a monster-infested desert island and who was suddenly being rescued by a cruise ship and towed back to civilization by way of the party deck. The phone made him feel positively loaded.

"Best…day…of my life," he whispered.

"Well I don't know about you all, but I'm bushed," Gladio said. "It's way past my bedtime. Unless there was something you wanted to do first, Noct? Mark off anything else from the big three-one bucket list?"

Noct smiled. "Yeah, sleeping in a hotel bed again. That's been on the list for a good ten years."

"Well, shall we get to it then?" Ignis asked, pleased.

"Soft beds, baby!" Prompto rejoiced.

xxx

It was close to midnight when they finally left Taelpar, several hours later than intended. To most anyone else, their "hotel" was the gold standard of a conventional budget motel—complete with its stiff and overbleached towels, peeling bathtub caulk, and art that was questionably classified as such.

But after ten years in the dark—more than a few of which Prompto had spent scouring trash bins and burnt-out farmsteads for his next meal—it may as well have been King Regis' royal quarters. He immediately flopped into the center of the nearest mattress and didn't get back up, arms draped to either side and simply reveling in the forgotten sensation of softness enveloping him. Noct went straight to the shower and didn't reemerge for over forty-five minutes, usurping all the hot water; being as it was his birthday, though, nobody quite had the heart (or lack thereof) to boot him out.

After they'd woken up that night, seven glorious mattress-buoyed hours later, someone made the mistake of switching on the television. The evening was pretty much a wash after that, none of them having witnessed the miracle of moving pictures since the earliest days of the Long Night. Fixed on the screen with glassy fascination, it wasn't until they found themselves two hours and a third rerun into what was evidently the sole occupant of the midnight timeslot—an informercial (brought to them by the great minds at Exineris: a meteor shard-powered device that could be used as an air compressor, drain declogger, handheld mixer, and personal fan, all in one!)—that Ignis finally called it.

But they were only an hour up the road, their high beams turned down low in hopes of luring out the odd daemon or two, when the reports of Imperial roadblocks began filtering in over the radio—starting at Galdin Quay and reaching nearly as far north as the Three Valleys.

"Well, there goes that," Prompto sighed.

He wiggled his leg restlessly as Ignis swung the car around. They had the top down despite the briskness of the night, allowing the last few weeks of summer to sink deep into their skin. The sunsoaked scents of wildflowers, baked earth, and dried grass washed over them and settled into their clothes and hair.

"Hoping to see Cindy?" Gladio asked from his seat in the back. His question held none of the teasing bite it would have in the early days. Prompto saw Noct look curiously up at him in the rearview.

"Yeah, actually, I kind of was," Prompto replied seriously. "I know it'd be weird, seeing her with this buttload of memories I've got that she doesn't even share anymore, but it still would've been nice. She was a good friend."

A sudden, unexpected sadness welled up inside him. In truth, Prompto suspected it may have been there all along, waiting for a moment like this to make itself known.

Without taking his eyes off the road, Ignis reached out to squeeze his arm in quick, quiet sympathy. Gladio bumped his back through the seat in an affirmation of solidarity.

Noct dropped his gaze to stare out at the darkened forest as it blurred past, his eyes shadowed.

Prompto's heart sank. He searched for the words to reassure his friend that their sacrifice had been worth it; that Prompto would still have given up that life a hundred times over—a thousand times—to have Noct here with them, whole and breathing and alive. But before he could find the right thing to say, his friend had moved the conversation along, and the moment passed.

"I'm going to call Cor," Noct said. "He's probably heard about our Altissia exploits by now and is pulling his hair out wondering if we're okay."

"Are you certain that's wise?" Ignis asked. He tapped the brakes as they began their approach toward the forested switchbacks, winding up into the foothills east of Taelpar. "Recall that Cor seemed much more sensitive to the phased reality effect than our friends at Caem."

"Especially with you, Noct. Remember what happened to Luna," Gladio said, always the pragmatic one. As if Noct could ever have forgotten.

"Yeah, I know," he tersely replied. "I doubt I can kill him over the phone. I just need to try—to let him know that he hasn't been completely abandoned by the family he's so faithfully devoted his life to."

"I suppose that is a respectable enough endeavor," Ignis murmured, as Gladio grunted in acceptance. "Just be on the alert, please."

"Yeah," Noct curtly replied, and punched in Cor's number.

Someone picked up on the first ring. But from what Prompto could glean from the front seat, that was about as good as the conversation ever got.

"Condor, Arapaima," Noct inexplicably greeted the person who was presumably Cor. "Yeah, okay—um. We've been hunting griffins. Yeah, we're fine...yeah...yes, we've heard. Right. Standing by."

There was a long pause, before whoever was on the other end evidently resumed speaking. Noct straightened, listening intently, then replied, "I'm...afraid we can't do that at the moment. I'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to say. But please rest assured that..." Suddenly he frowned. "Cor? …Cor. Are you all right? Cor, I need an answer..."

Gladio reached over, palm open and waiting. With an unhappy look, Noct handed him the phone, then slumped back into the seat, his eyes dark.

Despite what the public—and even much of the royal household—had thought, back in the day, Prompto always knew they'd gotten Noct wrong. Far from the entitled, apathetic youth they assumed him to be, his problem was usually in caring too much—sometimes to the point of immobility, the powerlessness he felt to help in a given situation paralyzing him from taking any action at all.

Now, as a king in his own right, that uncertainty had been replaced with a self-possession that was sometimes startling in its intensity. And quietly marred by something that was beginning to look a whole lot like the earliest stages of a breakdown, from where Prompto stood. He found the changes baffling—and even a little disturbing, if he were totally honest. But whatever was going on in his friend's head, Noct's distaste of being forced into the role of passive bystander had increased conspicuously.

Gladio brought the phone to his ear. "Cor?" his deep voice cut in. "Cor. –Oh, hey, yeah. I think we lost you for a second. ...Yeah, he's here with me. You were just talking to him." Gladio listened for a long moment, then said, "Sir, we've got it taken care of. You might want to consider getting some rest, though...yeah, we will. … …. Actually, I'll have to get back to you on that one. Right...right...okay, wilco. Amicitia out."

Gladio handed the phone back to Noct and said, "Cor wants us to hold tight and keep our heads down until this latest Imperial threat is neutralized."

"And?" Ignis prodded. He smoothly maneuvered them around a hairpin turn on the edge of a dropoff that Prompto was only too happy not to be able to see in the dark.

"And it seems he can't interact with me for more than a minute without having the same reaction as Luna, just as you guys predicted," Noct interjected grimly. "Even when I specifically avoided any talk related to the other timeline."

"He sounded confused when I took the phone," Gladio confirmed, shooting Noct a look of mute sympathy. "Picked up the thread after a moment—kind of—but couldn't remember what he and Noct had talked about."

"And I imagine his conversation with you, in turn, would only have lasted as long as it took to stray to one of the handful of subjects we now know are hazardous to this timeline," Ignis said, drumming his fingers on the wheel. "This phased reality effect is quite the interesting phenomenon in how differently it affects each individual. It certainly bears closer study, and perhaps even some careful experimentation."

"'Interesting' is one way of putting it, Igs," Prompto drily remarked.

"One more thing," Gladio added. "Cor says the Niffs aren't too happy with our part in Altissia. Which goes without saying—but it sounds like he's not exactly thrilled with it either. He'll be tied up with something for the next few weeks, but wants us to rendezvous with him afterward." He met their gazes in the mirror, raising an eyebrow meaningfully.

"Yeah, well, he can't," Noct replied shortly. "At least not with me. Not if he wants to keep living."

There wasn't much that could be said to that, so they didn't.

Prompto fidgeted with his new phone, cycling between all two of its menus until they began to blur together. He wasn't sure it was the most propitious moment to make a go at distracting Noct from his brooding, but if he did, maybe—just maybe—he could get his friend to smile again. Plus, if nobody else did anything soon he was pretty sure he was going to die of a silence overdose.

So, twisting all the way around in his seat, he propped his arms on the headrest and asked, "Oy, what was all that Griffin Arapaima Condor business, anyway? Sounded like you guys were taking inventory at a zoo."

Gladio looked like he might want to lecture him on the sanctity of seatbelts instead of answering, but the big man went ahead and obligingly replied, "Code. The royal family kept a regular rotation of prearranged authentication phrases to use over unsecured lines. Noct had to confirm our identity and that we were in the clear before he and Cor could talk freely. And now that you know, how 'bout you plant that breakable ass of yours back in your seat?"

"Kay," Prompto said agreeably, flopping back down onto the leather, "…but there's one little problem here. And that problem is that every Lucian, Niff, and their mutual sixth cousins, from Hammerhead all the way to the boot-melting slopes of Ravatogh, would realize that it's Noct on the line, because he's the only person in the known universe who would name his kickass royal codeword after a fish."

"What makes you think I picked it?" Noct protested, then discovered something interesting to examine amidst the totally indistinguishable scenery as Prompto turned all the way back around to peer at him with indignant disbelief.

Gladio smirked—obviously he knew exactly who had masterminded the name—but chose the path of mercy. Nudging Noct in the shoulder, he said, "I'm glad you didn't brain dump all that during the Night, because I sure as hell did."

Noct shrugged, ducking away from Gladio's hand. "Yeah, well. Can't remember how to do calculus for the life of me, but I can dredge up old codes. I guess some things just stick."

"Yeah, like the theme songs to annoying, ancient breakfast cereal commercials," Prompto agreed, quickly planting one cheek back in his seat as Gladio stared at him forebodingly. "You know how many times the Choco-Ohs song popped into my head while I was up to my elbows in miasma fighting my way through Arachne nests? There was a year where it was at least every other day. I haven't even eaten that stuff since I was a kid!" He broke into quiet singing. "I want to eat my Choco-Ohs all day...Something something work or play…they're the most nutritious way…"

"Thank you for that, Prompto, now we'll have to find something to listen to on the radio," Ignis said.

"Don't play all innocent on me, Igs, I heard you singing it just last week."

"Mere slander," Ignis sniffed, and smoothly returned to the original subject, nearly lost forever in the haze of irrelevancies. "The fact remains that—though we are now headed in a general westerly direction—we have no concrete destination in mind. We may want to consider finding a safe place to plant ourselves while we wait to see what comes of the Imperial situation. Suggestions, anyone?"

"What about Telghey Haven, down by the Maidenwater?" Gladio proposed. "Not that we necessarily need a haven with this being awake all night thing we've got going on, but it's rural. And it keeps us within two hours of Caem so we can be available if Monica or Dustin need us for anything."

"And thereby would enable us to carefully test their endurance to our phase effect, should we happen to pay them a visit," Ignis murmured, nodding. "So long as we bear in mind that it would take us relatively close to an Imperial base as well. Noct? What are your thoughts?"

"Yeah…all right," Noct slowly agreed. "Might be nice to make it out to Caem again. From what you guys said, it sounded like I was able to share the house, at least, without giving anyone a seizure. It'd be great if we discovered Iris and Talcott and everyone could handle my presence better than Luna and Claustra and Cor."

Prompto detected the tiniest note of longing in his friend's voice, and his heart clenched.

In one last-ditch effort to cheer him up, he said, "Yeah, and the Maidenwater has some of the best fishing in the West!"

He didn't know if that were actually true, as, the last time they had camped there, it had been hard to distinguish between Noct's "I just reeled in the biggest salmon this side of Lucis" grin from his "I spent an entire day we could have used playing King's Knight failing to catch some old trout I thought I saw" one (the latter of which Prompto tended to find exceptionally trying).

But Noct was flashing Prompto a smile now—even if only for the sake of courtesy. And for the moment, that was enough for him.

xxx

A/N: Bit of a quick turn between the last chapter and this one, but I wanted to get it out in time for Noct's birthday—which, dear reader, just so happens to be today!

A note: as of now, we're roughly halfway through this fic. I don't know if this is good news ("at last, an end in sight!") or bad ("great scott, get to the point already…"). Sorry, guys, I'm all about that slow burn.