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[batricide]

@hafid.alghul| ■ ▲ ◌ ▼

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[batricide]

[ He pushes that aside. Its War and this is just what happens, right? Whether it's blipping out of existence of being murdered.

But it's proof he has the emotional awareness of a baked potato. ]

We'll probably lose more people before we've managed to escape, so... that's wise.

[mercurio]

They're not dead.

They've gone back home.

[prompto needs to believe this much, otherwise he doesn't know what he'll do with himself.]

We just gotta catch up with them.

[batricide]

[ The longer he stays, the more he doesn't actually know if he wants to go home. The people he cares about here are dead, missing, or hopelessly brainwashed in his own world. ]

Right. That's what I meant.

[mercurio]

[he elbows damian]

I'm not usually so pathetic I need company when I get anxious, but the company does help.

[their lives here are so temporary, so tenuous, so unknown.]

Thanks.

[batricide]

[ He tolerates it, but it's pretty obvious he's not sure how to actually return the gesture in kind. Or do anything kind of light hearted in turn. ]

It's not pathetic. [ It probably sounds like a very un-Hafid like thing to say. It's more something Damian Wayne would say, without making eye contact and looking uncomfortable to admit it. ]

You reached out. That takes strength.

[mercurio]

[...now, he's embarrassed. he didn't expect such straight-forward praise thrown his way over how he's handling his weaknesses.]

--yeah, true. [an awkward rub at the back of his neck as he seems paused about what he wants to say next.] I'll keep working on that.

By the way, [in an attempt to throw the topic of conversation away from himself--] how old did you turn on your birthday?

[batricide]

[ Good. Here's where someone would normally clap him on the shoulder and encourage him, but Damian just nods.

And then pauses. ]

... Twenty.

[mercurio]

[prompto stops and stares at damian with wide eyes -- some sort of shock clear on his face.]

Wait, you're younger than me?

[excuse me since WHEN]

[batricide]

How old are you?

[ He folds his arms, frowning. The answer is obvious but he doesn't wanna say it. ]

[mercurio]

[prompto points at himself]

Twenty, crawling into twenty-one soon...

[he thought damian was like, five to seven years older, excuse him for having his mind blown]

[batricide]

[ It's the scowl. Scowl and nobody will figure out how old you are.

But his age is an uncomfortable thing. He never had a childhood, he just stormed onto the scene as a pint sized adult with heaps of emotional problems. ]

It's not that big of a gap.

[mercurio]

That is literally the problem, Hafid.

[but, despite the tone and his words, prompto's grinning wide]

[batricide]

[ Shaking his head. ]

A large gap in maturity then.

[mercurio]

I'm the adult here! You're gonna have to respect your elders, and all that.

[this is making prompto's anxiety leave him. thank you, damian]

[batricide]

Prompto, I guarantee that I've banked more 'adult' years than you have.

[ DON'T SASS ME ARGENTUM. ]

[mercurio]

What, I can't hear you over my eleven months of adult superiority over you~?

[listen, he's always been the baby. let him have this.]

[batricide]

Do you even know how to do your taxes?

[mercurio]

[a pause...]

I took care of myself as a kid and managed?

[batricide]

That's surviving, that's not being an adult. There's a difference.

[mercurio]

That should totally count for something.

Have you done your taxes?

[batricide]

[ I was in prison when I turned eighteen so. No. ]

I did the books for my family's company for a year.

[mercurio]

Okay, that's not fair. You're like infinitely smarter than me, so how does that prove being more of an adult when it's really just proof that you would kick my ass in chess in a matter of seconds?

[batricide]

I didn't have a childhood. Ergo, I'm more of an adult by years lived as one.

[mercurio]

That's super sad.

[but prompto's letting this conversation go, by way of letting his camera dangle from the strap around his neck, pulling instead something from his back pocket. it's a satchel, containing gloves, and he forcibly hands them over. tsuntsuntsun (he always loses at competition so he always gets a bit salty for like a hot minute).]

Happy late birthday anyway.

[batricide]

[ Oh.

Damian's dour expression flickers into one of surprise. He takes it, about to protest - to remind Prompto he hadn't wanted anyone to celebrate to consider it. But...

He doesn't expect anything for his birthday, ever. Or for anyone to remember it - his father sure as hell never did, and Talia only celebrated it until he stopped being her obedient little toy. He doesn't spread it around, doesn't bother looking forward to it. It's hard to when your life has been a trainwreck for so long you've forgotten what it feels like to be happy.

But this?

This... feels pretty close to happy. ]

... Thanks.