[ It's as noncommittal of an answer as he can manage. He hadn't meant to mention it anyway, but then he had and it wasn't as if he could just take it back. He feels ridiculous, truthfully, having this conversation like this, but blessedly Noctis starts to move toward the door.
Was he terribly private, back then? Did he care about changing in front of the others? Was he modest? It's weird to think about and not really know for sure, but Ignis makes his way to where his clothes are neatly set out for him and frowns a little at the color choices. They're good, he supposes; Cor did a good job taking him out to obtain replacements, but the flashes of blue are unexpected. He hasn't worn this before; hopefully it looks decent on him. He isn't certain, but he'd put money on a guess that he was at least a little vain.
He changes in the bathroom, already dreading waving off the doctors who will try to get him to linger in there and do an ungodly number of tests; he's fine. Noctis fixed his eyes and while his memory isn't fixed, he could feasibly use this time to leave. The thought is tempting, if it weren't an impossibility. Ignis finishes the buttons and smooths his fingers down the front of his shirt, easing out wrinkles that aren't even there.
When he comes back out, boots laced tightly up to his knees, he's wearing something similar to his older outfits, but there's a peek of blue at his cuffs, at the skull motif threaded through the collar. Ignis' fingers pluck at it a little anxiously and he debates the merits of just running instead of agreeing, but his body remembers what his mind doesn't and it's never said no to Noctis before. ]
no subject
[ It's as noncommittal of an answer as he can manage. He hadn't meant to mention it anyway, but then he had and it wasn't as if he could just take it back. He feels ridiculous, truthfully, having this conversation like this, but blessedly Noctis starts to move toward the door.
Was he terribly private, back then? Did he care about changing in front of the others? Was he modest? It's weird to think about and not really know for sure, but Ignis makes his way to where his clothes are neatly set out for him and frowns a little at the color choices. They're good, he supposes; Cor did a good job taking him out to obtain replacements, but the flashes of blue are unexpected. He hasn't worn this before; hopefully it looks decent on him. He isn't certain, but he'd put money on a guess that he was at least a little vain.
He changes in the bathroom, already dreading waving off the doctors who will try to get him to linger in there and do an ungodly number of tests; he's fine. Noctis fixed his eyes and while his memory isn't fixed, he could feasibly use this time to leave. The thought is tempting, if it weren't an impossibility. Ignis finishes the buttons and smooths his fingers down the front of his shirt, easing out wrinkles that aren't even there.
When he comes back out, boots laced tightly up to his knees, he's wearing something similar to his older outfits, but there's a peek of blue at his cuffs, at the skull motif threaded through the collar. Ignis' fingers pluck at it a little anxiously and he debates the merits of just running instead of agreeing, but his body remembers what his mind doesn't and it's never said no to Noctis before. ]
Where were you thinking?