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“Okay, so...so, say they were slow, right? What would your whole plan be? Where would you stay, what would your weapon be, you know, the survival plan?”
Regis, in lieu of fallen Niflheim and his own restored health and a prophecy avoided, had established a regular movie night with his twenty-year-old son. Originally, the plan had been to sit down and watch a movie every monday so they could have something to discuss for the rest of the week until their next movie night. But then...then they discovered Fear the Walking Dead and their ‘one movie, one night’ plan devolved into madness. They began binge watching several nights a week and would end up in the most intense discussions, lasting several hours and carrying on throughout the week, so much so that it became commonplace to see the king in a meeting suddenly whip out his phone and begin texting, furiously, to his son. One’s eyes could hardly keep up with his majesty’s fingers. Several times, Cor or Clarus even had to go and fetch the king from his impromptu ‘zombie session’ with prince Noctis, the king forgetting the outside world entirely. And while Clarus was happy that his majesty had the opportunity to bond with his son now that neither of them were doomed to a tragic fate for the sake of Eos, he couldn’t say that he was amused by their choice material.
“Zombies? Really, Reg-”
“Eh, Clarus, if you were stuck in the zombie apocalypse with my dad and the zombies were fast, how would you defend my old man? And what would you do if you got bit?” The king’s Shield turned a disapproving glare at the prince, about to tell Noctis what he’d do, when the king spoke.
“Nonsense. Don’t be ridiculous, Noct. Clarus is like...Rick or Madison. He wouldn’t die.”
“Yeah, but in the comics, Rick loses a hand.” Regis released the most scandalized gasp.
“What?! There are comic books, too?!”
Clarus’ glare, still fixed on Noctis, grew ever more intense. If looks could kill, Noctis would be a smoldering pile of ashes.