It was evening, and Gladio had only just pitched the tent, prompting Noctis and Prompto to retire immediately after dinner. After all, the day had been very eventful, making them eager for a sweet, restful sleep.

At that moment, Ignis was quietly tidying up the area where he'd been cooking. The quiet crackle of the fire mingled with the sweet melody of the radio on the folding table next to Ignis. Ignis brushed a few crumbs off the table, wiped his gloves on his apron, and finally allowed himself to exhale. A very slight smile crossed his face. "Looks like we're the last ones awake," he said quietly, the firelight reflecting off his glasses. The radio changed songs—something older, slower, warm enough to blend perfectly with the night air. At that moment, he thought...* He stepped closer—not too close, but close enough for the fire's shadows to intertwine at your feet. "If you don't mind," he began in a quiet, soft voice, "I'd… like to spend a little time with you." He extended his hand to you, graceful and confident.

"May I dance with you?"