[So. In a way, it's almost like Quest 44 was Made For Her™ — needing a yellow involved, accomplished via musical shenanigans. The heart bullshit had thrown a little bit of a wrench into her plans, that's for sure, but it's not as though she'd ever intended to put a lot of thought into this. Sometimes the best plans are the ones that involve a starting point and a vague idea of where to end up, and working on the fly the whole way through.
For example: when she's coming up on the hideout and she hears the sounds of music from the inside, and drops back to listen a little bit before eventually deciding that it's probably okay to interrupt.
Her fingers flick; a little snap of magic erupts near one of the hideout's windows. Music plays, because she's always had a knack for this trick in particular.
Dear Prudence, won't you come out to play? Dear Prudence, greet the brand new day The sun is up, the sky is blue It's beautiful and so are you Dear Prudence, won't you come out to play?]
[The guitar strings jangle and buzz as Prompto yelps and misses his chord, and then he dashes to the window, opening it with wide eyes and the blushing, breathless beginning of a smile.
The guitar's still strung around his neck by a strap, but he only has eyes for her.]
Are you--are you seriously doing the boombox by the window thing?
Oh, did you change my name to Prudence? Not real fitting for a mercurial guy like me, is it?
[But that surprised, awestruck smile's given way to a big grin, and Prompto spins from the window without even turning it to go run to the door. He doesn't even pause to drop his guitar, just speeds over to her like a dog greeting his favorite family member, holding the strap so the instrument doesn't whack him as he jogs up.]
The occasion is, stand right there and just, like. Watch. While I do a thing.
[She puts her hands out palm-forward in the universal sign for "just stay right there", then backs up a step and rakes her fingers through her hair and shuffles around on her feet a bit before —]
Okay.
[A familiar snap of her fingers, and there's music again, except that this time there's conspicuously no lyrics, because Summer is the one providing them.]
♫ We should get jerseys, 'cause we make a good team But yours would look better than mine, cause you're outta my league And I know that it's so cliche to tell you that everyday I spend with you is the new best day of my life Everyone watching us just turns away with disgust It's jealousy, they can see that we've got it going on
And I'm racking my brain for a new improved way To let you know you're more to me than what I know how to say You're okay with the way this is going to be 'Cause this is going to be the best thing we've ever seen
If anyone could make me a better person, you could All I gotta say is I must've done something good Came along one day and you rearranged my life All I gotta say is I must've done something right... I must've done something right. ♪
[He can't help but laugh, not at her, but because it's so overwhelming to be sung to, let alone to listen to the lyrics and believe someone actually thinks him out of anyone's league. Both Prompto's hands are plastered over his red-hot cheeks and he hardly dares peek out of them. It's not embarrassing, it's just--]
This is so much, girl! Wh...where would we get jerseys, anyway?!
[Right there on the ground, he drops to one knee and then the other, ridiculously overcome, shaking with incredulous laughter.]
[Oh, did he think she was done? No, no, this is not just a karaoke session; this is a show, and she's in the moment full-force at this point. She poses, turns, jumps in the air; by the time her feet hit the ground, the song has changed, and her lyrics have shifted right along with it.]
♫ Open up your eyes, Then you'll realize, Here I stand with my everlasting love Need you by my side, Wanna be your bride, You'll never be denied everlasting love From the very start, Open up your heart Be a lasting part of everlasting love! ♪
He lies there before her like he did once before, but this time, he's laughing so hard he almost can't see the splendid display she's putting on for him. This time, instead of pale and shivering, he's beet-red and cradling the guitar to keep it from the dirt, shaking in paroxysms of disbelief and adoration.]
Wh--why? What've I ever done to you?!
[He dissolves further into a helplessly giggling puddle.]
[Unfortunately, everyone accustomed to fairy tales knows that all good things (and bad things) come in threes, and so he's in for one more melody change.
She's starting to get a little breathless and this is absolutely not in the right pitch for her but guess what, she's in it to win it and she's not stopping now.]
♫ Something happened to my heart, the day that I met you Something that I never felt before You are always on my mind, no matter what I do And every day it seems I want you more
My love is warmer than the warmest sunshine Softer than a sigh My love is deeper than the deepest ocean Wider than the sky My love is brighter than the brightest star That shines every night above And there is nothing in this world That can ever change my love... ♪
The good news is he's crying because he's both actually laughed himself to tears and genuinely, deeply moved by her extravagance, her enthusiasm, her teasing affection for him. For him. It's so much, it's more than he can take, and it's never, never, never more than he wants.
Wheezing and blindly wiping his eyes, Prompto hauls himself shakily to his knees, reslings the guitar across his back instead of over his chest, and opens his arms up to her.]
Come here. C-c'mere already, I can't believe you, get down here!
[The anticlimactic punctuation mark appended to the end of her riotous performance. Breathless, tired, and yet unable to stop laughing, she's quick to drop down and flop against him, delighted at the results she's garnered.]
You sure did. Tell me. And do it. More than do it, really!
[He all but wraps himself around her, sitting back on his butt with first his arms and then also his legs looped around her like a koala hugging its eucalyptus tree, or something else it absolutely needs to live. It's an all-encompassing, marsupial kind of adoration.
He rubs his face against hers and finds himself chuckling again, like the happiness just won't stop bubbling out.]
[She echoes the word like a secret, because it is — the kind that comes with a wink and a nudge and two people who know better and neither one of them inclined to spill the secret resonating between them.]
Hey, don't let me crush your guitar, okay? I'd feel bad if it got jacked up under the crushing weight of my beefy body.
[She is a soggy spaghetti noodle at best, what even is this.]
Ohhh, no, not your massive muscles of steel! This isn't even my guitar, how will I ever explain the girlfriend-shaped imprint to the guy I'm borrowing it from?
[His bright, laughing grin goes a little shyer, and his eyes flicker up repeatedly from the guitar to Summer, from Summer to the guitar. Eventually, he shifts back and takes the guitar in his hands, adjusting strings that don't really need adjusting.]
'Cause... I guess we had the same idea. Kind of. And I don't have a whole one-man band's worth of magic at my fingertips, so I gotta do it the old-fashioned way. So. You wanna hear?
[Prompto looks up and smiles again.]
Here goes.
[It's an easy, generic progression of chords, all the easiest ones he can remember. He plays like a beginner, too, looking from the frets back down to his strumming hand, clearing his throat and fixing his fingers whenever he misses a note.
Prompto's no stranger to singing, but none of his goofy jingles sound this quiet. This quiet, or this open.]
♫ I wrote this song with simple chords, 'Cause I'm a simple guy I wrote this song with simple words, Just stuff that came to mind
My feelings are so simple When you get down to the heart... ♪
[He pauses for a second, fingers picking idly at the notes of the chord he just strummed to keep the sound going, going for a moment, then sing-says in a hurry on the same note:]
[And then smiles and returns to the proper pattern of the tune.]
♫ But seeing you, telling you face to face Is actually the simplest part...
You make The days longer The nights warmer More fireflies in my chest than freckles on my skin, you make Me wanna Be honest And open all the windows up to let you in, you're Like a week of lazy days just playing oldschool video games With friends who know my tune by ear...♪
[He looks up at her, smiling softly, then finishes with the last chords.]
What I'm trying to say is simple: You're my favorite time of year. ♪
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no subject
For example: when she's coming up on the hideout and she hears the sounds of music from the inside, and drops back to listen a little bit before eventually deciding that it's probably okay to interrupt.
Her fingers flick; a little snap of magic erupts near one of the hideout's windows. Music plays, because she's always had a knack for this trick in particular.
Dear Prudence, won't you come out to play?
Dear Prudence, greet the brand new day
The sun is up, the sky is blue
It's beautiful and so are you
Dear Prudence, won't you come out to play?]
no subject
[The guitar strings jangle and buzz as Prompto yelps and misses his chord, and then he dashes to the window, opening it with wide eyes and the blushing, breathless beginning of a smile.
The guitar's still strung around his neck by a strap, but he only has eyes for her.]
Are you--are you seriously doing the boombox by the window thing?
[Some things transcend dimensions.]
no subject
[She grins at him, hands on her hips, all red coat and purple gloves underneath her ever-present black cloak.]
Are you coming out or not?
no subject
[But that surprised, awestruck smile's given way to a big grin, and Prompto spins from the window without even turning it to go run to the door. He doesn't even pause to drop his guitar, just speeds over to her like a dog greeting his favorite family member, holding the strap so the instrument doesn't whack him as he jogs up.]
Sooo, what's the occasion?
no subject
[She puts her hands out palm-forward in the universal sign for "just stay right there", then backs up a step and rakes her fingers through her hair and shuffles around on her feet a bit before —]
Okay.
[A familiar snap of her fingers, and there's music again, except that this time there's conspicuously no lyrics, because Summer is the one providing them.]
♫ We should get jerseys, 'cause we make a good team
But yours would look better than mine, cause you're outta my league
And I know that it's so cliche to tell you that everyday
I spend with you is the new best day of my life
Everyone watching us just turns away with disgust
It's jealousy, they can see that we've got it going on
And I'm racking my brain for a new improved way
To let you know you're more to me than what I know how to say
You're okay with the way this is going to be
'Cause this is going to be the best thing we've ever seen
If anyone could make me a better person, you could
All I gotta say is I must've done something good
Came along one day and you rearranged my life
All I gotta say is I must've done something right...
I must've done something right. ♪
no subject
This is so much, girl! Wh...where would we get jerseys, anyway?!
[Right there on the ground, he drops to one knee and then the other, ridiculously overcome, shaking with incredulous laughter.]
no subject
♫ Open up your eyes,
Then you'll realize,
Here I stand with my everlasting love
Need you by my side,
Wanna be your bride,
You'll never be denied everlasting love
From the very start,
Open up your heart
Be a lasting part of everlasting love! ♪
no subject
literally
falls over.
IT'S SUPER-EFFECTIVE!!!
He lies there before her like he did once before, but this time, he's laughing so hard he almost can't see the splendid display she's putting on for him. This time, instead of pale and shivering, he's beet-red and cradling the guitar to keep it from the dirt, shaking in paroxysms of disbelief and adoration.]
Wh--why? What've I ever done to you?!
[He dissolves further into a helplessly giggling puddle.]
no subject
She's starting to get a little breathless and this is absolutely not in the right pitch for her but guess what, she's in it to win it and she's not stopping now.]
♫ Something happened to my heart, the day that I met you
Something that I never felt before
You are always on my mind, no matter what I do
And every day it seems I want you more
My love is warmer than the warmest sunshine
Softer than a sigh
My love is deeper than the deepest ocean
Wider than the sky
My love is brighter than the brightest star
That shines every night above
And there is nothing in this world
That can ever change my love... ♪
[There's a dance routine. God help us all.]
no subject
The good news is he's crying because he's both actually laughed himself to tears and genuinely, deeply moved by her extravagance, her enthusiasm, her teasing affection for him. For him. It's so much, it's more than he can take, and it's never, never, never more than he wants.
Wheezing and blindly wiping his eyes, Prompto hauls himself shakily to his knees, reslings the guitar across his back instead of over his chest, and opens his arms up to her.]
Come here. C-c'mere already, I can't believe you, get down here!
no subject
[The anticlimactic punctuation mark appended to the end of her riotous performance. Breathless, tired, and yet unable to stop laughing, she's quick to drop down and flop against him, delighted at the results she's garnered.]
I told you I was gonna do a thing.
no subject
[He all but wraps himself around her, sitting back on his butt with first his arms and then also his legs looped around her like a koala hugging its eucalyptus tree, or something else it absolutely needs to live. It's an all-encompassing, marsupial kind of adoration.
He rubs his face against hers and finds himself chuckling again, like the happiness just won't stop bubbling out.]
That show was aces, Ace.
[Heheheh.]
no subject
[She echoes the word like a secret, because it is — the kind that comes with a wink and a nudge and two people who know better and neither one of them inclined to spill the secret resonating between them.]
Hey, don't let me crush your guitar, okay? I'd feel bad if it got jacked up under the crushing weight of my beefy body.
[She is a soggy spaghetti noodle at best, what even is this.]
no subject
[His bright, laughing grin goes a little shyer, and his eyes flicker up repeatedly from the guitar to Summer, from Summer to the guitar. Eventually, he shifts back and takes the guitar in his hands, adjusting strings that don't really need adjusting.]
'Cause... I guess we had the same idea. Kind of. And I don't have a whole one-man band's worth of magic at my fingertips, so I gotta do it the old-fashioned way. So. You wanna hear?
[Prompto looks up and smiles again.]
Here goes.
[It's an easy, generic progression of chords, all the easiest ones he can remember. He plays like a beginner, too, looking from the frets back down to his strumming hand, clearing his throat and fixing his fingers whenever he misses a note.
Prompto's no stranger to singing, but none of his goofy jingles sound this quiet. This quiet, or this open.]
♫ I wrote this song with simple chords,
'Cause I'm a simple guy
I wrote this song with simple words,
Just stuff that came to mind
My feelings are so simple
When you get down to the heart... ♪
[He pauses for a second, fingers picking idly at the notes of the chord he just strummed to keep the sound going, going for a moment, then sing-says in a hurry on the same note:]
♫ AndIdidn'tthinkitwouldgothiswaysoI'mchangingthewordsalittlereallyquick--♪
[And then smiles and returns to the proper pattern of the tune.]
♫ But seeing you, telling you face to face
Is actually the simplest part...
You make
The days longer
The nights warmer
More fireflies in my chest than freckles on my skin, you make
Me wanna
Be honest
And open all the windows up to let you in, you're
Like a week of lazy days just playing oldschool video games
With friends who know my tune by ear...♪
[He looks up at her, smiling softly, then finishes with the last chords.]
What I'm trying to say is simple:
You're my favorite time of year. ♪