Promptober Day 3: Guns
Prompto had just finished taking a shower, his first real shower in what felt like days. Damn. There really was nothing quite like hot water on aching muscles after… how many daemons had they slayed in the last twenty-four hours?! He’d lost count, and quite frankly, he didn’t really care to find out. What he did care about, though, was hopping into a warm, comfortable bed and sleeping for fifty years after this shower. Camping be damned. (Sorry, Gladio.)
After drying himself off, he wrapped the towel around his waist and shuffled over to the mirror, freshening up a little before bed. Teeth brushed. Mouth washed. Hair combed, even if it really didn’t need it.
And then, there was the flexing.
Sometimes, Prompto got a little too invested with his reflection. It wasn’t exactly an ego thing - far from it, actually - but more like… a confidence thing. He liked to monitor his progress. And he’d made good progress, especially after leaving Insomnia with the others. He was finally starting to get some abs (squint, and they were totally there, okay?), and he was proud of them, even if they were decorated by faint stretch marks along the bottom of his stomach. His chest still needed a bit of work, as he had a little… more there than he cared to have, but it was nothing he couldn’t hide with his clothes. And his arms? Well…
He flexed his right arm. He turned a little, to get a different angle.
It was something, he guessed, but it was still not good enough. To him, anyway. They were starting to gain some definition, but…
It was a little hard not to compare yourself to one Gladiolus Amicitia.