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[lapses]

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[noncertus]

Hey.
You've been perched over my place for days.
Are you coming in?

[lapses]

[ ......... ]

Is that an invitation? [ busted, but he don't care. ]

[noncertus]

[He doesn't reply.

His apartment door swings open though. That's enough invitation, right?]

[lapses]

[ it's all the permission he needs.

a second later, he will be landing silently outside of the opened entrance. he closes and locks the door behind him on his way inside, but he doesn't take a step further. ]

[noncertus]

[This is one of those standard three-storey deals you'd find in any metropolitan area, even in the slums of the Undercity. One main room with enough space for the IKEA-style bed frame (with incorporated - if empty - drawers) to one side, a door that leads to a small shower/bath, another to a toilet, and a third leading to an empty utility closet that might have once housed a washing machine.

The kitchen is tucked into an alcove just inside the door, little more than a sink, a rack where a very small two-burner stovetop might have been, once, and about as much area (not even a foot) in empty countertop. While there's hookups for a small fridge, there is none to be seen.

Cloud's lived with worse. The tap water doesn't even smell or taste bad. Does have that cookie-cutter look that his temporary lodgings in the slums had, though, and maybe that's why he picked it. Just familiar and utilitarian enough.

He's putting his sword against the wall only to jump slightly when he realizes that Vincent is not only here, but he's had the time to close and lock the door, all without a sound.]

...Don't know if I'll ever get used to that.

[lapses]

[ it's nice to see that the kid has some furniture in his room now. the last time he stepped foot inside, it was mostly bare. he didn't even have a bed. the hospital was passing out furnishing, but vincent didn't stop to take a look at any of them. he isn't in the spirit to play house right now, settling for a decrepit warehouse further within the gradually crumbling city — one he has only visited once to store his coffin.

he still has no idea why they've given it to him when he hasn't laid eyes on it for almost three years now.

when cloud finally notices him, he folds his arms over his chest as he dips his head down, the collar of his cloak now effectively concealing the lower half of his face. he lets the silence drag out between them, his eyes averted off to the side — almost like a child expecting to be scolded for doing something wrong. ]

[noncertus]

[Don't expect it to get too cozy in here. Cloud's lived rough for a while. Besides, the way he looks at it, the minute this place starts to look lived-in is the minute he's given up hope on getting back to the others, to the place where he belongs.

Vincent looks different. He realizes, after a moment observing, that he doesn't look different, he looks guilty. The merc's shoulders sag somewhat.

He's had days to think. About what he would say - about them, about what's been going on - and now that it's time to say something, it feels like his mouth has gone dry.]

...You wanna sit?

[God damn it, Cloud.]

[lapses]

[ red eyes darts to the blond and then to the rest of the room.

there is no chair in sight. ]

No. [ he's fine. ]

[noncertus]

[There's a bed and that happens to pull double duty as a couch.

Rolling a shoulder only marginally addresses the tension. Cloud rests a hand against the Buster Sword propped up against the wall, steadying himself with an inhale. In through the nose, out through his mouth.]

I thought about it. What's been going on. What you told me.

[The last time they stood in this apartment.]

Got something to say. I'm not sure where to start.

glances at sephiroth

[vanguarda]

hey, it's zack. you got eyes on cloud?

so much side-eyeing

[lapses]

Why?

[vanguarda]

yes or no, vincent.

[lapses]

Yes.

[vanguarda]

good.

let me know if he goes anywhere.

[lapses]

Why?

[vanguarda]

there's someone here i don't think he's ready to see.

[lapses]

Who?

hey it's the other blond clone, u up?

[photog]

[his head, mouth, and heart all burnt the morning after, when he wakes up on the floor of a broken down florist shop and the memories from the party start invasively creeping their way into the back of his brain. why he let his limbic system take an entire stroll out into the rose garden, he has no idea. but the thing that sticks with him, prominently, is the weird, gut wrenching feeling that he's tip-toed into the tulips of overshare, and there are certain Regrets to be had about that.

he groans, looking up at the ceiling. did he really... try to pay that guy 10 gil for escorting him to the toilet? what ever happened to him, anyway? he's too discombobulated at the moment to think of a decent enough reason, settles on "disappearing in a cloud of bats" and thumbs around his immediate area for his jeans. the bennies of living on your own: free, unfiltered access to going along in military issued undies.

but it's a few hours into the day, which is... a story for another time, all things considered, as he earnestly tries to attempt finding Vincent again. it's not like he got his name last night either, which makes him about.... oh, 0 for 10 in being a functional human being last night. but he remembers that he likes rooftops, and that's about all he has to go by. Prompto checks a few from various triangulations.

and eventually he spots what has to be a red ass cloak. he squints. hopefully it's him and not some shower curtain waving in the wind. with a hand to his mouth to amplify the sound of his voice a few roofs over and away, he tries to yell out. oh, right, he was dancing last night and his voice is still a little hoarse.

uh-hem.]

YOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooOOOOOOooooo.

[hope your day was going well so far, Vincent!]

no

[lapses]

[ his day was going well.

after he spoke to cloud, he decided to resume his tour of the city, getting a feel for the land. it's a strange, eerie world, almost reminiscent of a graveyard. no signs of life within the deteriorating infrastructures or empty streets, all seemingly abandoned years ago.

he's curious as to how it has reached this desolate state and how the augur ties into its history, but he has yet to come across anything useful.

without the need for sleep, it doesn't take long for vincent to reach the edge of the city where only wasteland greets him. he could travel further, of course; but cloud and zack are both here. at least one of them will need him. so, he turns around and starts to make his way back. when dawn slowly begins to break through the cover of an evening sky, vincent replaces dark alleyways and the shadows of looming buildings for the security of rooftops and fire escapes.

it doesn't take him long to reach the heart of the city when a loud greeting penetrates his ears and captures his immediate attention. eyes finding the blond instantaneously, he stops on the brink of a ledge he has just landed on and, without so much as a nod of his head, he leaps off of it, disappearing from view.

within a few minutes, vincent will be slipping onto the rooftop where prompto is, silent as the nameless city itself. ]

......... [ and, naturally, he just remembered that he never asked for the blond's name, so... he isn't going to say anything until he notices him. ]

but have you considered.... "yes"?

[photog]

[surely, if Prompto calls, Vincent will come roof spelunking from miles away. it's probably not the best thing in the world to reinforce with the blond, as this is a power no mere mortal should have in their possession. he'll have to use it seldom, an abuse of power like this can only end in tragedy. but for a moment, he's a little unsure. Prompto has crippling fears that people will eventually walk out of his life for something that he's said or done, or worse, for who, er- what- he actually is. maybe Vincent just wants nothing to do with him? he vanishes out of sight, and he thinks to himself: "that's completely fair," and thinks about descending the staircase back down and trying to find something more useful to do with his life on this lonely island.

and on his turn to go do exactly that, he's met with the same chilling scene of a man who can move without so much as a trace of the wind around him, and Prompt stumbles, vividly tripping over himself in the weird aftermath of being set upon by an IRL vampire. well, maybe not, but you can't convince him that the impression is necessarily wrong, either. once his heart stops racing out of his chest like an overexcited hummingbird, he gains composure and cool, watery blue eyes with peaks of violet crescents meet up with a pair of violently warm, and dangerous looking red. he almost can't believe he peed in front of this guy.]

Uh, h-hey. Nice of you to, uh, drop in? [oof size: big.] Can we work on, like, maybe not trying to make me go into coronary arrest next time?

no

[lapses]

[ prompto shouldn't let it get to his little chocobo head.

vincent is only humoring him because he managed to drop a ton of information on him last night with barely any explanation. he wants to learn more about the deathless project and the daemons the kid carries inside of him, and he gets the distinct impression that is why he has been sought out so early in the morning.

watching the blond startle at the sight of him, vincent doesn't look the least bit apologetic as he responds with a curt: ]

What do you want?

tough crowd

[photog]

[he always lets everything get to his head, that's, like, unavoidable. the only thing that can stop him is being so unbearably mean that it brings into question why someone would want to kick a puppy straight in the face like that.

but now that he's here, and completely ignoring the request to not startle him moving forward, he breathes outward, coming to his senses. as much as Vincent wants to know more, Prompto is in a perfectly primed position to pull back.]

Hey, so I might've said some really heavy stuff last night.

[like how he can't pee when other people are watching.]

toughest

[lapses]

[ well, no promises here.

vincent can be a real asshole sometimes. ]

You did. [ "might have" — who is he trying to kid? ] Lab experiment. Project Deathless. "One of a kind, limited edition."

[ and he can't piss when someone else is around. or follow direction signs to locate a restroom. ]

[photog]

[ah, a perfect display of such qualities, right here.

the entire bottom half of Prompto's jaw becomes ajar, in that sort of "I'm wincing and in pain, please send help," sort of way. he was worried about this. not that there were memory lapses from overindulging on the vittles, but he wasn't sure he was ready to hear another human being (questionable) repeat those words out loud to him.]

Look, I, uh.

[he scratches the back of his head.]

I don't really tell people about that stuff. About me. It's hard enough to form decent relationships with people, never mind leading in with "hey, I'm actually a clone of an evil mad scientist, 'sup."

[lapses]

[ he understands the desire to keep it a secret from others. it isn't like he goes around informing people that he is the result of forced human experimentation either. but since prompto was the one who'd volunteered it to him of his own volition, then he is just going to have to live with the consequences. ]

I know. [ he understands what it's like personally. ] It's fine.

[ he isn't here to judge him. ]

Tell me about the daemons. [ a beat and then: ] Can you control them?