LifeAfter Inbox

[shatteredlenses]

 

This is Ignis.  Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.  Storyteller willing, I may actually be able to read messages left for me soon.
...
And, no, your Highness, this doesn't mean I will be too busy to make sure you eat your vegetables. 

Comments

[shatteredlenses]

Ignis shakes his head, almost seeming to read Gladio's mind on that last point, "Prompto wants to ask the Storyteller for some supplies and tools to use toward getting electricity and for building the fencing. He would gladly offer for this, but those stories are better used for his request. I have a few set aside that can be used."

He's been saving for emergencies because of course he has, but the pile is getting rather large now, so maybe he can sacrifice a couple here and there. They are his glasses after all.

[piercetheheart]

Gladio side eyes Ignis for a moment, considering. But eventually he has to sigh his consent. “I’m not gonna argue with you this month, babe. But you let me handle the next one, yeah?”

Because there’s a lot of stuff in the works right now. The bathhouse he wants to get going, the electricity Prompto is working towards, the defenses they’ve talked about putting around the islets. “We can share.” And then, before they get too close to the house, Gladio uses the hand he has tangled with Iggy’s to tug him to a stop again. “Hey…”

And then he’s leaning down to kiss the other man again, humming a soft contented sound against his lips.

[shatteredlenses]

A small smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, "I will let all interested parties battle for the honor next month provided you can beat me to the punch."

Of course he has to make a challenge out of it, though he might not try too hard to win this particular one. Just once.

Ignis makes a soft sound of surprise when Gladio suddenly tugs him to a stop, but the surprise soon vanishes as he melts into the kiss. There's something so peaceful, so right, about the moment that he really wishes it could go on forever.

Goodness, he's sure turning into the greedy sort, isn't he?