Chapter Text
"Shall we camp here?" Ignis asked as they followed Noctis up the side of the haven.
"Sounds good to me," Prompto stretched, looking out over the lake. "Nice view."
Gladiolus hardly paused before he was setting up the tent, Iggy already setting up his his portable kitchen. Prompto got out the feed for the chocobos, leaving the fire to Noct. It wasn't that late, but the light of the fire lit up the whole camp, revealing a large bag and an even larger swag.
"Hey, Ignis," Noctis called, kicking the bag gently with his toe. "Think someone will be joining us?"
Iggy looked over the roughened bag, noting the rips and torn stitches marking its hard life before looking out to the darkened trees and valley around them. "It's late, I hope whoever it is hasn't run into any trouble out there."
Promto's head poked up from the small flock of birds. "What's going on?"
"Noctis has discovered another person's possessions and we were questioning whether they were still alive or not," Iggy said brashly, stepping back to his pot of boiling water.
"Have you checked it for ID?" Prompto offered as he, too, looked it over.
"Yeah," Noct snorted, "I found a bag and started rifling through it first chance I got looking for ID and undies."
Unamused by the sarcasm, Prom knelt down and checked the bags over for any tags or stitched lables, but it was just a very faded blue canvas bag and a dirty, dark green bedroll. He was unzipping the smallest side pocket before anyone could stop him.
"Dude, no!" Noct grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. "You can't just go looking through other people's stuff!"
While the prince called out his friend on his anti-social behaviour, Gladiolus stepped up and undid the zip of the main compartment, revealing a messy pile of clothes, what looked like a gay erotic novel, and a phone charger.
"Gladio!" Noct exclaimed, "You're both barbaric!"
Iggy sighed, stepping away from the simmering pot to mother them both back into polite behaviours.
So that's what Zuri saw when she arrived back at her haven, Alstrooms in hand for her dinner: Four men standing around her open bag, bickering, but still going through her stuff.
"HEY!"