[ Ryo knows that kind of look. He's seen it on nights where he's given earnest praise, shoved at a broad shoulder just to hear a laugh. He's seen it when he's turned up the radio just right, repeated his beliefs when doubts started to cloud the air. It's almost distracting, how much he suddenly aches for the familiarity of that. Almost, because Prompto is suddenly in his space and angling the camera in his direction, heedless of the way that Ryo's eyes temporarily widen at the intrusion. He almost opens his mouth to say something, but the dragokeet on his shoulder ruffles up its bright feathers and tucks its warm face against his hair. It chirps something, like a bar or secretive utterance, and Ryo sighs and wills his body to stay where it is.
And oddly enough, despite how tight his posture is, his mouth hikes up at one corner. It is small, almost indiscernible, but it's there. ]
You're not bad, [ he says, after a long moment. It's odd to see himself in stillness, much less at all beyond a mirror or the odd reflection here and there. His brows furrow minutely in concentration as he takes in what details are presented to him. He actually doesn't remember if his parents had ever bothered with pictures, but he supposes they might have. He tries not to make a habit of returning to what remains of his father's study as much as he can. If there were any, they're bound to be there. ] How long have you been at this?
[ At this! At this! is the chorus near his feet. Ryo doesn't look at Prompto when he asks this, but his eyes do flit to the dragokeet that makes itself at home on the back of the hoverbike in the interim. ]
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And oddly enough, despite how tight his posture is, his mouth hikes up at one corner. It is small, almost indiscernible, but it's there. ]
You're not bad, [ he says, after a long moment. It's odd to see himself in stillness, much less at all beyond a mirror or the odd reflection here and there. His brows furrow minutely in concentration as he takes in what details are presented to him. He actually doesn't remember if his parents had ever bothered with pictures, but he supposes they might have. He tries not to make a habit of returning to what remains of his father's study as much as he can. If there were any, they're bound to be there. ] How long have you been at this?
[ At this! At this! is the chorus near his feet. Ryo doesn't look at Prompto when he asks this, but his eyes do flit to the dragokeet that makes itself at home on the back of the hoverbike in the interim. ]