[Funny, how he flinches and stays flinched through all the 'nonsense' she lists: turning into something else, melting, bursting into flame. He just stands there, white and wide-eyed, until that last offhand comment.]

I--!

[And then stops abruptly. Of course I have a soul! is what he wants to say, but.

But what if he doesn't?

Self-doubt comes back to him with all its crushing weight. Noct and the others said it was fine, that where he came from doesn't mean anything, that he was one of them, no matter what--so it wouldn't matter, right? He's with them, always.

Except they're not here right now.

Prompto sinks back on his heels, bites the inside of his lip, and shakes his head.]

I don't--I don't understand. What's all that stuff about judging, or... how would not having a soul feel better?