There's no verbal response to Prompto's call, but once the blonde steps into the room, he will find Ignis is indeed there, seated cross-legged in the middle of the bed staring blankly down at the pillows at the head of it. Leo is curled around him as tightly as he can be, head in Ignis' lap. The advisor's hand is twisted into the tigerlily's ruff, but is as still as the rest of him is.

At least Leo moves slightly to greet Prompto, soft, mournful sounds slipping from his throat.