[ Noctis can't imagine golfing, not really. Trying to get a ball into a hole is ultimately an insufferable sport, and he's sure he'll be cranky ten minutes into the game. Fishing, you see, fishing is serene. Fishing is productive -- he gets to be alone with his thoughts, and then be a provider in addition to that, which appeals even more to his male ego.

He's watching Ignis situate a delighted Luna onto his lap, and oh, Noctis always thinks he's beautiful when he smiles but this one, this one is even more special. Or maybe it's because it's come on the heels of a particularly draining session. He's not expecting better news the next day or the few days after this, when this bombshell is what grips the nation and the papers milk every drop of sensationalism out of it. ]

I wouldn't know. Dad mentioned I used to eat crayons. They had to take them all away. [ He grins lopsidedly but it's short-lived. He's tired, he really is, and at this point the two of them are what keeps him going. While normally Noctis would refuse the offer, too proud to admit that he needs help, he doesn't now. ]

Yeah. Yeah -- that's fine. [ He could do with his presence. Hold him and be convinced that he just did the right thing. ] What time will you be arriving? I'll send word for dinner.