“Babe, you hate it that much?” Prompto asks in exasperation. It had taken him quite a while to find a beard style that suited him, especially since he grew sparse body hair, and he couldn’t, not in a million years, develop a full beard like Gladio. Prompto pouts at your reflection in the mirror as you tidy the bathroom in the wake of offering to shave it for him. The electric razor sits on the counter; he eyes it in suspicion. “And here I thought you were digging my beard, tsk tsk.”

He scrutinizes his expression in the mirror, wondering if a clean face would look good at this point. It had been a long time. He hesitates. “I dunno... What if it’s, like, my thing now?” Still, any excuse for you to touch him was nice, and beards would grow back!