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The C.I.C., Tuesday Afternoon - Evening [10/23].

The last few weeks had been a ride, that was for sure, and most of it had definitely been squeezed into the last weekend, so Prompto had almost nearly forgotten that it was almost his birthday until he got a card in the mail that day from his parents. It was kind of the usual deal, just a card with a scribbled message saying that they were proud of him, happy birthday, nice and encouraging but dismally impersonal, with a nice check so that he could buy himself something for a gift. At least with him away at school, a gesture like that made sense, so he tried not to think of all the previous birthdays when it was just that they were too busy to do much more.

Should he do something? It would be kind of lame to throw a party for yourself, and at this point, mentioning it to anyone would just seem like he was looking for attention. Which he wouldn't mind, but it would be nice if it didn't feel so obvious. So he guessed he'd just do for his birthday what he mostly always did: buy himself something for a gift, put a little bit of the money toward splurging on a cupcake (it had been a whole cake some years, but he tried not to think about that), and have the same private little birthday celebration with himself that he always had, that was it, no big deal.

It was a pretty good amount of money they sent this year, especially when he transferred it into dollars at the bank. So when he wasn't checking on his little plot of land in his one game, Prompto was spending most of his shift doing some online window shopping, checking the scopes on some new cameras, maybe thinking about getting some new threads, maybe something blue...

...look, when a charming, handsome shark prince who'd been fawning all over you said you'd look good in blue, you wore some goddamn blue, even if that charming, handsome shark prince was gremlin-bit at the time.

The C.I.C. is open!

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Hey, look who had finally decided that she could show her face in public again! Clothed, thank you, head-to-toe in the clothing she'd come to the island in. Because Nina's skirts and such were cute enough, but she needed to feel a little bit more covered than a draft right up the bottom could allow, and pants? Pants were good for that.

She had a shirt and a jacket in her arms, and was thankful once again that it was difficult to tell when she was blushing furiously, given her skin tone.

"Uh, hey."

Prompto knew that running into Vette eventually would kind of be inevitable, but he wasn't really expecting it to be so soon and so...well..her just coming to find him first. So he was a little slack-jawed when he looked up from his phone, eyebrows lifted, a little surprised.

"Uhhhhh, hey."

Well, she didn't look too much like her intent was murderous. That was...a good sign, right?

He wondered if he could successfully make the appeal for her to at least wait a couple of days before she killed him; it could be his very last birthday present ever.

She stood there awkwardly for a moment, and then held up the clothing she'd brought.

"I cleaned them. Not that they were dirty or anything."

She just didn't want to give him any reason to have weird boy thoughts about naked girl bits touching the inside of that shirt, damn it.

Considering that this was a weird boy who still had one letter from a girl tucked away in his sock drawer from when he was twelve, that...probably was a smart move on her part.

To be fair, though, the letter was from the Oracle and former princess of Tenebrae, so it was kind of a big deal, okay?

"Oh," Prompto said. So....not going to kill him? That was good. Very good! And he relaxed a little, held out his hands to take the clothes back. "Thanks. You don't have to do that. Clean them, I mean. Or even return them, actually." He was half expecting to never see those clothes again, because he was mostly expecting on avoiding the hell out of her. "But...it's nice that you did."

Edited 2018-10-23 13:44 (UTC)

Vette shrugged a little at that.

"You didn't have to clothe me when I was standing there enjoying the breeze," she pointed out, passing the clothing back to him. "Let's call it even."

Edited 2018-10-23 13:46 (UTC)

Prompto was just going to give Vette kind of a confused look at that, because he was very much of the mindset that, uh, yeah, he kinda did have to, because what kind of person wouldn't in that situation? But he'd happily take even over dead, and he took the clothes back and set them aside.

And then discovered that his sense of self-preservation wasn't as strong as he initially expected, because, as soon as he felt safe, he was suddenly dying to ask a question that would probably put him right back on the murder list. And it didn't help that he didn't really know what else to say, either, which only made him want to ask the question even more, and he fidgeted a little where he sat, tried looking at Vette, couldn't, brushed an imaginary piece of lint off of his returned shirt.

"Even," he agreed. "I like even. Even's good."

"Even's good," Vette agreed. And then just kind of stood there awkwardly for a moment, watching him oh-so-subtly pick at the invisible lint.

...

"Okay," she added, frowning a little. "Something's obviously eating at you. Spit it out or we'll both be left wondering."

Yeah, subtly was never Prompto's strong suit. Especially not when he tried to laugh something off, like he tried to do now, shaking his head, leaning back in his chair, waving a dismissive hand and absolutely not bouncing one knee the whole time, which meant having to cross his other leg over it and lean forward with his hand on his ankle just to stop it. Totally, totally casual, just getting...suuuuper comfortable, just like he felt...

"No, no," he insisted. "It's nothing, really! I'm just...thinking about stuff. Class. That's it. Nothing's...eating me."

Except it was, it totally was, he had to know, but he also liked being alive.

Vette's arms were crossing over her chest, now. And she was just going to stand there.

Staring him down.

In silence.

She could do this all day, Prompto. Don't think she couldn't.

And Prompto absolutely could not do this all day. He could only do this for about three whole seconds before the fidgeting and bouncing took over again and he threw up his hands.

"Okay, fine!" he caved. "Fine. But!" He leaned forward, an elbow on the desk, a finger pointed at her. "I'm gonna ask my question, but you have to promise not to kill me until after Thursday, okay? Deal?"

Vette tilted her head a little, arms still crossed over her chest.

"Why? What's Thursday?"

If she was going to be taking rainchecks on potential murder, it had to at least be for a good reason.

"It's my birthday," Prompto said with a huff of a sigh, leaning back against the chair hard with his arms crossing over his chest now. "You can't go and kill me right before my birthday, that's just too mean."

Vette quirked a little bit of a crooked smile at that.

"Is that so?" She leaned her head back and hummed a little. Oh, this was so getting passed on to Nina at her earliest convenience, now. You were doomed, Prompto. "Okay. No pre-birthday murder. Now spit it out."

Prompto narrowed his eyes a little. He...didn't like the look of that smirk. Or the sound of that hum. Or maybe he did. He wasn't sure; he didn't feel he knew or trusted Vette well enough to know what she could possibly find so interesting about that information, but he did know himself well enough to know that now he was nervous, possibly more nervous about that than his impending death.

But he narrowed his eyes at her a little more, sucked in a breath, chewed his bottom lip for a moment while he tried to think of something else to ask on the fly that might not be as disasterous, but then, what the hell, they'd already gone this far with it, she promised to give him until Thursday, what did he have to lose at that point?

"So what happened?" he gushed, leaning forward again with his eagerness, all but bouncing where he sat. "It's been driving me crazy! Did you murder him? Is he fish food?" He...wouldn't list the examples of what he thought might have happened if things swung the other way. "What haaaappened after I left?"

HE NEEDED TO KNOW SO BAD. It was literally not any of his business whatsoever, but that made him need to know even more!

Edited 2018-10-23 14:35 (UTC)

Oh yeah, whatever went down on Thursday, it was going to involve confetti, Prompto. So. Much. Confetti. Vette lifted her chin a little and frowned, mostly to hide the fact that she was blushing all the more furiously, now.

"Nobody was murdered," she replied. "And I'm pretty sure calling a Zora 'fish food' is probably about as offensive as calling a Twi'lek 'wormhead.' You might want to be careful about that one, Prompto."

Just putting that out there.

Did she forget who she was talking to, thinking confetti would be a bad thing?

"I--"

Hey, she promised! No killing until after Thursday! That included not murdering him with words, Vette.

"Uhhhh...."

Maybe he should have just let her kill him; this would have been way easier. And it was much harder for him to hide his blushing. Much, much harder.

He tried to gulp down the lump in his throat, to no avail.

"Duly noted," he managed.

And since he was clearly already a dead man walking, he slowly ventured, "So...then....what....did happen?"

If he was to die, he deserved to know, dammit! Especially since he had some ideas about how it might have gone if it hadn't been murder.

Poor Prompto. Vette was kind of starting to realize just how squishy the poor guy was. It kind of made her want to wrap one arm around him, keep a blaster in her other hand, and then threaten anybody who might ever hurt the poor guy.

"Then," she said, relenting a little and offering him a crooked little smile, "I yelled at him a bit."

It had been very cathartic, actually.

"And he stared at me a while."

And she'd been sweating blaster bolts the entire while.

"And thennnnnnn..."

And now Prompto was the one staring at Vette, expectantly, having leaned in a little more with the trailing bit of her story, and then he waiting for her to finish the next one...

...and waited...

...and waited, and then he gave her a look, because he knew what she was doing and he clearly didn't appreciate it, so he was going to just nudge her along, lifting a hand and spinning a finger in the air as if winding her back up.

"And thennnnnnnn..." he prompted, because he was not going to let her just leave him hanging!

Vette just grinned and leaned back triumphantly.

"I'm not allowed to tell you," she replied, beaming. "I have a sacred pact with my roommate. Nina gets juicy details before anybody."

Which was to say that there were most definitely juicy details to be had. Because she couldn't not confirm that, here.

"Aw, come on!"

Prompt had gotten a lot of use out of the good old throwing-your-hands-up-in-frustration gesturr, but this one had the added bonus of being so emphatic as he leaned back, it nearly sent his chair into a good spin.

On the other hand....

Steadying the chair now with his hands on the arm restems, he had to grin up ato Vette. "But there are juicy details, huh?

"So, what are you still doing here?" He laughed, waved his hands toward the door. "Go, get out of here, go tell Nina, and then we can talk!"

He figured he could also go track down Sidon, bUT that didn't seem like nearly as much fun. Also, significantly more awkward, since he had his own reasons for not wanting to talk to Sidon about juicy details.

Vette gave a little laugh of her own, and then skipped back towards the door.

"I guess," she replied, "If you want to have dibs on 'second person to get juicy details,' you'll have to call them now. They can be birthday dibs."

She was absolutely not forgetting about his birthday, no. She didn't know when hers was, so she had to live vicariously through people who did.

"Second dibs!" Prompto called out after her, because, yeah, he was totally not letting that one slip out of his fingers.

But there was something else, too, before she left.

"Oh, hey, wait, Vette! One more thing!"

Vette half-skipped to a stop, peering back in through the doorway curiously.

"... Yeah?"

And Prompto couldn't have wiped the giant grin off his face even if he tried, which, of course, he wasn't going to.

"You look really cute with my clothes on."

Hey, if he was a dead man anyway, he figured he might as well make the most of it!

Vette was torn between squeaking and throwing something at him - not that she had anything on hand - or just... laughing it off.

Which, at the moment, seemed like the safer bet here, anyway. She turned a little grin his way, tossing her head to send one lek flopping over her shoulder, and grinned.

"Sure I do," she replied. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

It was almost sweet, if absolutely terrible. Dammit, Prompto.

Almost sweet if absolutely terrible was practically Prompto's middle name!

"Only when it's true," he informed her loftily.

But now he was going to wind up thinking about girls wearing his clothes, so thanks for that one, Vette.

Vette gave a laugh at that, somewhere between awkward and maybe a little delighted, and then pointed at her own eyes with two fingers before turning those fingers right back at him.

I'm watching you.

"You," she informed him, "are a menace, and I'll have my revenge."

It was going to absolutely involve confetti. Absolutely.

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The C.I.C., Tuesday Afternoon - Evening [10/23].

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