[ It comes out quickly, like he's irritated with Noctis. He takes the bag into his bedroom, but it's not because he's irritated at all.
In his room, his clothes are in a neat stack; he picks and chooses from a handful of items and irons them all in the morning. It's a process that's self-soothing at this point. If Noctis looks, he'll see him kneeling tucking that clothing into one side, and into the other: a newspaper clipping. It ends up tucked neatly away into the pages of one of the notebooks. Ignis smooths it down to make sure there's no wrinkles and settles that notebook on top of the mix of shirts and pants.
It's not just the fact that he's settled into the room like he's ready to need to pack and leave in a heartbeat, though that's part of it. It's that everything is settled into the room by halves, like he's expecting someone else to be there, living in his space. He'd noticed it once but it hadn't been worth the effort to try and move everything about; it was tidier this way. When he speaks again, it's with a little disbelief, zipping his bag up. ]
I don't believe that for a second. You're soft. Somehow.
[ Awed, maybe. The last few years of Noctis' awareness haven't been easy from what he could glean from the research he'd done on the four of them. Events like this would have broken a lesser man, but a nagging little voice inside Ingis said that Noctis was no lesser anything. ]
no subject
[ It comes out quickly, like he's irritated with Noctis. He takes the bag into his bedroom, but it's not because he's irritated at all.
In his room, his clothes are in a neat stack; he picks and chooses from a handful of items and irons them all in the morning. It's a process that's self-soothing at this point. If Noctis looks, he'll see him kneeling tucking that clothing into one side, and into the other: a newspaper clipping. It ends up tucked neatly away into the pages of one of the notebooks. Ignis smooths it down to make sure there's no wrinkles and settles that notebook on top of the mix of shirts and pants.
It's not just the fact that he's settled into the room like he's ready to need to pack and leave in a heartbeat, though that's part of it. It's that everything is settled into the room by halves, like he's expecting someone else to be there, living in his space. He'd noticed it once but it hadn't been worth the effort to try and move everything about; it was tidier this way. When he speaks again, it's with a little disbelief, zipping his bag up. ]
I don't believe that for a second. You're soft. Somehow.
[ Awed, maybe. The last few years of Noctis' awareness haven't been easy from what he could glean from the research he'd done on the four of them. Events like this would have broken a lesser man, but a nagging little voice inside Ingis said that Noctis was no lesser anything. ]