[Lulled into compliance, McGillis pictures the strange sort of birds that Prompto describes. A big bird, big enough to ride, good-natured and gentle... that sounded appealing, and on more than just a logistical level. It almost sounded something like fun, something that he could've cracked a smile at, even as a loveless child. He opens his mouth to ask all kinds of things, how they came to be, if he had one, but Prompto pulls up a photo and it has him peering closer. Fascinated, borderline enthralled.
Of course, he isn't blind or deaf to what's going on, to what's happening. He's alert and attentive, as any man from his background would be, but he's shedding a few of those nastier layers. Not the physical kind, but the kind that seethed and glared and stopped short of calling Prompto a complete idiot. He's just doing as directed, for as long as it pleases him.
A very big lion, holding a tiny little bird. How appropriate.]
Ah, it seems happy.
[Happy, like Prompto told him to be. He can't, but this was a decent start, and it has him looking down to dryly note:]
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) dat thirst, boi...
Of course, he isn't blind or deaf to what's going on, to what's happening. He's alert and attentive, as any man from his background would be, but he's shedding a few of those nastier layers. Not the physical kind, but the kind that seethed and glared and stopped short of calling Prompto a complete idiot. He's just doing as directed, for as long as it pleases him.
A very big lion, holding a tiny little bird. How appropriate.]
Ah, it seems happy.
[Happy, like Prompto told him to be. He can't, but this was a decent start, and it has him looking down to dryly note:]
It bears a striking resemblance to you.