[Some of the best times that Prompto had in high school were sitting out on Noctis' apartment balcony, passing a bowl between the two and letting the night air reek havoc on both of their sensibilities. Of course there was a certain danger in getting caught- he doesn't know what would happen if his father ever found out that this was what they were getting down to up there late at night, and far be it from Prompto to ever tell Ignis that half of the empty bags of food around it were more or less from their serial case of the munchies.

He catches the bag back in his hands, fumbling for a few moments since, despite the fact that his trigger aim was getting phenomenally better, his catch was still a little something to be desired. Noctis never had to roll his own- and he wasn't about to start breaking tradition yet.]

This stuff smells like heaven, Noct. It's so good. Leave it to like, a farmer to grow some dank ass weed.

[Moving to the table, he separates out the bud as it needs to be set, carefully picking and teasing to firmly pack the glass tubing. He loved that cactuar glass. It had the markings of all their finest, most Grown Up memories. Looking behind to make sure that Ignis and Gladio were firmly out of nose's reach of the stuff, he picks it up, grabs the lighter, and plops himself down in the coleman chair next to the prince.

And as custom, he always lets Noct take the honors of having the first hit.]

Yeah. I think it's been about a month? I dunno. I remember waking up next to you in the morning and praying our clothes didn't smell.

[A small smile displays against his face, holding out the lighter.]

You go first, your highness.

[Really, this was pretty much the only time he ever likened the title to him. But it was only because of the pun, and only because it was absolutely fucking perfect. Every single time.]