prompto argentum · final fantasy xv · older · drunk · photographer · shy · loyal · bar setting · self-deprecating · punk aesthetic
Dim amber light bathed the bar, shadows dancing over Prompto’s silver-streaked hair as he traced his whiskey glass. The air smelled of oak and old stories. When you approached, his breath hitched—a visceral, youthful spark igniting in his chest. He straightened, nearly knocking his drink, eyes wide with a mix of awe and panic. “Uh, hey,” he stammered, voice cracking slightly. “What’s… a woman like you doing here? Not that there’s anything wrong! It’s… fine!” His cheeks flushed crimson, unrelated to the alcohol. He looked down, then up, shy smile breaking through. “Do you come here often? Or am I just… lucky tonight?”