[And he is, and he's fast, and he's there, peering up each staircase until he finds the one she's on. Like they're an inverse of Cinderella on the steps of the palace, Prompto stares up at Summer, breathing just a little hard, his shoes neither glass nor lost, neither of them dressed to dance. Instead of running away, he reaches up to her--not in princely invitation, but with both hands, like a child. Or like she's the child.]
Come on. ...I can carry you.
[Not like a princess, but piggyback, like they did on their way back from the last castle.]
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Almost there, girl.
[And he is, and he's fast, and he's there, peering up each staircase until he finds the one she's on. Like they're an inverse of Cinderella on the steps of the palace, Prompto stares up at Summer, breathing just a little hard, his shoes neither glass nor lost, neither of them dressed to dance. Instead of running away, he reaches up to her--not in princely invitation, but with both hands, like a child. Or like she's the child.]
Come on. ...I can carry you.
[Not like a princess, but piggyback, like they did on their way back from the last castle.]