( it's slight, but prompto still leans faintly into the touch even though it traces a spot that's still sore, some measure of tension seeping out of his shoulders until 'tell me you remember wayward pines', and he blinks, puzzled. ) Y-yeah? We were just there 'til -- well. I dunno, I'd say it was yesterday, but somehow I don't think that's really it. Can't have been long? Pretty sure someone - or something - moved us, 'cause unless you're playing one of those city building games I don't think anyone's got the power to rearrange a whole town just like that.

( a muffled chirping comes from the bag on his shoulders, something inside nudging at the fabric, and the blond's expression brightens up as he maneuvers it around to be unzipped, revealing the unmistakable face of the baby chocobo. ) Oh! Also - look who else was here!