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[originallutece]

Rosalind Lutece

Doctor of physics, professor at Recollé University.

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[originallutece]

[Ah. Prompto.]

I know.

[He's obviously leading up to something, and so she keeps it to that. I know, and she bites back something else trite like he cares a great deal about you, because that won't help.]

[kittycaterer]

[ He dials back fast, shaking his head. ]

This's stupid. I'm drunk. Thassit.

I'm not into him like... like that.

[originallutece]

Noctis . . .

[God, but she hates that they're doing this while he's drunk, but if she waits for tomorrow, he'll claim he doesn't remember the conversation at all.]

. . . even if it's simply to yourself, there's no use in hiding from the truth.

[kittycaterer]

[ He hides his face in his hands again, leaning forward in his seat. ]

And then what?

Scare 'im off? Make everything weird?

[ He snorts despite himself. ]

Nah.

[originallutece]

I didn't say tell him. I said tell yourself. At least admit it to yourself.

[kittycaterer]

[ Noctis sits in silence again, still covering his face.

Eventually, he shakes his head. ]

Uh-uh.

[ Like a petulant child. ]

[originallutece]

Noctis.

[She can appreciate he's upset, but also: come on.]

[kittycaterer]

[ He's extremely drunk, among... Other things. That he won't bring up to his, well, practically surrogate mother here. It's been a long night, and so he's not exactly the most agreeable or logical right now.

So Noctis sighs in protest, rolling his head back against the top of the couch. ]

I don't. We're just friends.

[ Even though he essentially admitted to it a few minutes ago. See? Not exactly the best for this right now. ]

[originallutece]

[YOU'RE A GODDAMN LIAR, CAELUM]

All right.

[Rosalind won't argue, not when he's being like this. She rubs his leg instead, a vague gesture of affection.]

Then tell me about the rest of the party instead.

[And they'll think about Prompto and Noctis' absolute not-crush tomorrow.]

[kittycaterer]

[ LISTEN. HE HAS SHIT TO WORK OUT. ]

Mmh.

[ Noctis sighs, at least feeling less tense to the affection Rosalind gives, and he lets his gaze shift back to her for the time being. ]

Did too much.

[ He groans, holding his stomach. ]

'M not... 'M not good at partying. At all.