[Honestly... Prompto lived to hear that sort of groan come out of Noctis' mouth. There was nothing more self satisfying than bringing the other to a premature grey with all the host of wonderful puns out there. That is... if he made it to grey. There's about a 50-50 chance that he'll end up pulling his hair out, and the fact that Prompto is completely okay with that speaks volumes about their friendship.
When the lighter gets handed over, he slouches in his chair properly, making a habit not to watch the other take the inhale. This seemed like a religious rite in a sense, and everything was in order- up to and including the way that Prompto looked up at the sky, like he was inviting their cosmic hosts to come down and speak to them, whisper in their ear all the stupid fucking things of the universe- and the only thing that distracts him is the harshness of exhale that Noctis blows right back out.
A side glance at the other tells him all he needs to know. He was getting ambitious in his old age. And then the little cough. Prompto has to hold back a belly laugh; remind himself that there are actual adults sleeping somewhere nearby. He takes back the bowl and the lighter.]
Aww, how cute. It was like our first bag of weed all over again. If only I had my camera.
[Nope, he's not going to let Noct shoot him a glare, because he's too busy lighting up, pressing his thumb against the intake hole and taking into his lungs the burn and the rancid aftertaste that he knew tasted like shit but provided him fond memories of his past. Kind of like an ex, but... better in the way that this was at least something he could look forward to meeting again.
He exhales, covers his mouth with his arm, feeling the scratch at the back of his throat and resists the urge to cough. Leaning over, he passes the pipe back and retires to his professional slouch. It'll be a few minutes before affecting him, but fuck, the in between state was one of the best parts.]
Dude. I wish we had some music. Oh man, this is a music high. I can feel it. It's like, this perfect little bag of weed is saying "Prompto. You need some chill sounds that don't sound like crickets trying to murder you."
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When the lighter gets handed over, he slouches in his chair properly, making a habit not to watch the other take the inhale. This seemed like a religious rite in a sense, and everything was in order- up to and including the way that Prompto looked up at the sky, like he was inviting their cosmic hosts to come down and speak to them, whisper in their ear all the stupid fucking things of the universe- and the only thing that distracts him is the harshness of exhale that Noctis blows right back out.
A side glance at the other tells him all he needs to know. He was getting ambitious in his old age. And then the little cough. Prompto has to hold back a belly laugh; remind himself that there are actual adults sleeping somewhere nearby. He takes back the bowl and the lighter.]
Aww, how cute. It was like our first bag of weed all over again. If only I had my camera.
[Nope, he's not going to let Noct shoot him a glare, because he's too busy lighting up, pressing his thumb against the intake hole and taking into his lungs the burn and the rancid aftertaste that he knew tasted like shit but provided him fond memories of his past. Kind of like an ex, but... better in the way that this was at least something he could look forward to meeting again.
He exhales, covers his mouth with his arm, feeling the scratch at the back of his throat and resists the urge to cough. Leaning over, he passes the pipe back and retires to his professional slouch. It'll be a few minutes before affecting him, but fuck, the in between state was one of the best parts.]
Dude. I wish we had some music. Oh man, this is a music high. I can feel it. It's like, this perfect little bag of weed is saying "Prompto. You need some chill sounds that don't sound like crickets trying to murder you."