[prompto's smile is shy, finger scratching at his cheek. he's basically bouncing on his seat with energy, even as he leans forward and redraws a cactuar on his notepad. it's a scratchy thing; he really hates holding pens and pencils, and he presses the tip onto paper insanely hard.]
I had a hard time sitting down for a few hours, but we made them explode, sort of.
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I had a hard time sitting down for a few hours, but we made them explode, sort of.
[cactuar, he writes, pleased.]