[He shies like a horse or a frightened bird, ruffled feathers and sidelong motion, as if to duck behind his own shadow for cover.]
No! Don't come any closer!
[Denial--ten percent reasoned horror, of course, but ninety percent kneejerk panic. For a second, even though the scenery doesn't change, he doesn't flash back to that facility before his eyes or hear the voice of his nightmares, Prompto feels like he did in those labs, with that man. The only reason his gun's still in its holster is because he still isn't used to having to physically draw it.
Instead, his hand's out, too, but in refusal. In no. He inhales short and sharp, holds that breath with his heart in his throat, then squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. Back, back. He draws his hand back, shrinks back further, draws backwards in every way.]
No. No, I don't want it. I-I-I appreciate that--that you think it'd be a good thing, but I. No. I c-can't. Sorry.
[After one more moment spent trying to think of something else to say, he blurts out:]
no subject
No! Don't come any closer!
[Denial--ten percent reasoned horror, of course, but ninety percent kneejerk panic. For a second, even though the scenery doesn't change, he doesn't flash back to that facility before his eyes or hear the voice of his nightmares, Prompto feels like he did in those labs, with that man. The only reason his gun's still in its holster is because he still isn't used to having to physically draw it.
Instead, his hand's out, too, but in refusal. In no. He inhales short and sharp, holds that breath with his heart in his throat, then squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. Back, back. He draws his hand back, shrinks back further, draws backwards in every way.]
No. No, I don't want it. I-I-I appreciate that--that you think it'd be a good thing, but I. No. I c-can't. Sorry.
[After one more moment spent trying to think of something else to say, he blurts out:]
I have to go. S-see you!
[And he bolts.]