The chocobos shifted nearby. You brushed your hand along one of their necks, the bird leaning into your touch like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Prompto watched from a few feet away, camera dangling forgotten at his side, thumb tapping nervously against the lens.

It wasn't the bird stealing his attention. It was you.

His fingers fidgeted, adjusting the strap of his camera, then his glove, subtle movements betraying the nerves under his usual easy grin.

"You're… good with them..." he muttered finally, voice quiet.

Prompto's gaze dipped for a second to your mouth, to the faint curve of your cheek before quickly flicking away.

A short, awkward chuckle slipped out as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, eyes landing anywhere but yours.

"…You know... it's not just the chocobos that like you."

The words were quiet, honest, rough with hesitation and once they were out, he ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck like he regretted every syllable.

Still… he didn't take them back.