The C.I.C., Tuesday Afternoon - Evening [11/13].

[hashtag_chocobro]

Prompto was expecting a pretty quiet day at the C.I.C. that evening. Definitely more normal than last week, at any rate; you could practically feel the relief washing off of him like tidal wave when he walked in to find everything was working and running as smoothly as could be, that things were staying solid, that tools and controllers weren't turning into leeks, for crying out loud. He'd even sort of solved the mystery of the knife from the other day (not in any satisfying way, though; it had been sitting in the sink the next morning, as if he hadn't thoroughly searched the thing), so that wasn't bugging him out or anything anymore.

Well, it kind of was. He'd checked. It hadn't been there. Where had it gone to just...reappear exactly where he'd been looking for it?

Overall, though, it wasn't like it was a real big deal, and there were farms to check on and newbs to mow down, and Prompto settled in at the desk with the intent to have a well-deserved normal day.

The C.I.C. is open!