Chapter Text
The bakery smells delicious, unsurprisingly. The bakeries he goes to usually do; here, there’s the scent of berries, fresh and potent, and he figures that some kind of masterpiece is currently in the oven. Since the building is small, quaint, the sweet scent hangs heavy in the air, and his mouth waters as he walks towards the cashier. His camera bag is slung over his shoulder, a familiar weight, and he shifts to let it rest on the counter when he arrives - the cashier raises an eyebrow in interest.
She’s small and cute, with dark black hair and crimson eyes. “Can I help you?” She asks, hair fluffing against her cheeks.
“Ah, yeah,” he nods. “I’m here to speak with Ignis Scientia? I’m here with Patisserie, for photographs.”
“Oh!” She perks up, then spins around and jolts to the door separating the kitchen from the lobby. “Gladdy, Iggy!” She calls. “The photographer is here!”
Prompto blinks at the sound of her yelling but straightens and unbuckles his camera case. He pulls out his Nikon, takes the lens cap off, and peers through the viewfinder, then manually adjusts the focus, playing around a little, and shoots up when he hears the door to the kitchen open and close.
He knows which one Ignis is, mainly because he’s seen his photograph - prim, regal, rather unlike most of the patissiers he’s met in the past. He’s always impeccably clean, too. The man next to him must be Gladiolus Amicitia - his husband. Prompto knows that because his boss told him; he can sometimes be bothered to do research, but it’s usually not into the patissiers’ personal lives. But he puts on a bright smile and reaches his hand across the counter, offering it to Mr. Scientia, who takes it. Strong grip. Honestly, he does seem to be pretty ripped underneath the outfit.
“You must be Prompto,” Mr. Scientia says in a thick accent, but there’s little excitement behind his tone. Prompto nods. “Would you like to come see the kitchen?”
That’s pretty standard. People usually like to show off their equipment. They can probably take one look at Prompto and see that he’ll never be able to afford anything like it. Not that he would want to - he can’t cook to save himself.
“Ignis,” comes a new voice, and Prompto looks towards the smooth tenor. The owner is as handsome as his voice. There’s a hand on his hip and a bored look on his face. “How much longer?”
“Patience,” Ignis says, almost chastising. “I’ll let you know when it’s finished.”
The newcomer’s eyes land on Prompto. “And you are?” His blue eyes flicker down to the camera. Eyebrows raise. “Oh, the photographer. From the magazine.”
Prompto nods. Evidently this person must be related to Mr. Scientia in some way; he holds out his hand and the other boy eyes it for a moment before shaking it. His palm is very warm, as if he’d been handling something hot. “Nice to meet you,” he says, smiling. “Prompto Argentum.”
“Noctis,” says the boy still holding his hand. But then it slips away. “Lucis Caelum.”
Oh, he recognizes that last name. He can’t remember where it’s from, though. Noctis must be important - that’s not a common name.
Ignis clears his throat. “The kitchen, then,” he says, and Prompto turns to him quickly.
“Y-yes,” he nods, and scurries around the corner. He takes one last glance towards Noctis before disappearing behind the door. The dark-haired boy was looking at him, too.
The kitchen is spotless, not that Prompto is very shocked. Everything is gleaming stainless steel, so clean it reflects shapes off of it’s surface. Prompto can see his hazy shape in the refrigerator, though none of his features. Quietly, he follows the creator of his subject around the room, nodding and asking questions at appropriate times. Before he started this job he didn’t know a thing about baking equipment, but that changes once people start to get offended that you’re not impressed with their rotary ovens. It does no good to piss the patissiers off.
He stops in front of a prep table. The cupcakes smell heavenly, but that’s not why he’s interested. “Do you mind…?” Prompto asks, gesturing to the desserts with his camera.
Mr. Scientia turns, looking from him to the cupcakes. “Not at all,” he says, and he smiles a little now. “By all means.”
The cupcakes are absolutely gorgeous, decorated to an almost scientific perfection. They’re completely symmetrical, but their beauty isn’t lost in it. The cupcakes are a myriad of pastels, pinks, blues, purples, and the icing has been manipulated to look like roses. It’s not fondant - just icing. Little green leaves of icing poke out from various places. The lighting in the room is great, too, so that there are no shadows on the pastries and as he zooms in, changes the focus, he sees tiny sparkles in the icing. They catch the light beautifully.
He snaps a few pictures, then rustles through his bag to switch lenses. He twists on the microlens before leaning close, adjusting the focus once more, and taking another snapshot. When he leans back to survey the display, he grins. He loves his camera. Proudly, he holds the camera out towards Mr. Scientia, so he can take a look. The man steps forward and gently takes it from his hands - he handles the camera carefully, which Prompto more than appreciates, and flips between the two pictures.
“They’re lovely,” he says, nodding.
“Do you mind me asking what the cupcakes are for?” Prompto asks, looking at the pictures himself once more before putting the camera around his neck again.
“A wedding,” Mr. Scientia tells him, and this is when Prompto realizes how silent Mr. Amicitia has been the entire time. He looks over at the large man, but receives nothing but a raised eyebrow in response.
“This is all Iggy,” the man says, voice gruff.
Okay, then. He wouldn’t mind a statement if Mr. Amicitia had one to give, but he supposes he understands in a way. Not like he could do much with it anyway. He follows them again. “What is the article going to be on, precisely?” Mr. Scientia asks after a moment.
“Oh, um,” Prompto starts. “Actually it’s on desserts from Tenebrae, and the editor heard about it being an influence on you.”
Mr. Scientia hums thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose,” he says. “I don’t see how cupcakes would help, then.”
Prompto laughs a little. “No, those are just for me. Or, well, to keep on hand, maybe. I’ll ask for a release on my photos once we’re done, and you can decide which we can have.”
He gets a prim nod in response. “Well, the vol-au-vents have almost risen, and then must cool and be tended to, but it shouldn’t take than another fifteen minutes before they’re completely finished.”
“Alright,” he returns. “Would it be alright for me to talk some pictures of the kitchen, then?”
Mr. Scientia nods. “I have to retrieve the filling for the vol-au-vents from the back, but Gladio will be here if you need anything.”
And then he leaves and it’s just the two of them. It’s immediately awkward. “Um,” he starts. “Your bakery is amazing.” It’s a platitude, and he knows it. Just small talk. “And Mr. Scientia is very talented.”
Mr. Amicitia sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Prompto takes a second to take in the tattoos on his biceps. They’re impressive. Mr. Amicitia looks away for a moment before looking back at Prompto. “Well, we wouldn’t be where we are if it wasn’t for the brat you met earlier.” He sounds a little fond, though. “But like I said, it’s all Iggy here.” He clicks his tongue. “Man wouldn’t ask for help if he was drowning, so I don’t really have much to say. You want something to put in your article, you’d be better off talking to Iris.” He cocks his head back towards the lobby. “The cashier. And my little sister.” He gives Prompto a look, but he doesn’t really have to worry about that. Iris is cute, but...not his type. He likes a more mature woman.
“Well, I’m not a journalist,” Prompto says, chuckling nervously. He rubs the back of his neck. “I mostly take the pictures.”
Mr. Amicitia is a fan of skeptical looks. “Will someone else be coming by for the article, then?”
“Mmm,” he nods and fidgets with the hem of his vest. “Man by the name of Dino Ghiranze. He’s, uh, a character.” A little slimy, but good at what he does. Rumors say he’s getting ready to leave the journalism business, though. Prompto’s heard from a couple of people he wants to get into jewelry. More lucrative, probably.
“Why don’t you just do both?”
Prompto is a little shocked. He doesn’t know why Mr. Amicitia seems interested in him. “I’m just not a writer,” he explains, and gives a self-deprecating little laugh. “Always been better with a lens than a pen.” Better with a lens than anything probably. Not that that’s hard. He’s not good at much else. He was a shit student, and not great at making friends or talking to people, either. He’s a lot better about his shyness now, but growing up he wasn’t the best at interpersonal relationships. At least he’s confident enough to talk with people now, even if he gets a little edgy talking to people he’s never met.
He wishes he was actually good at something other than hiding behind a camera.
“Well,” the big man says, crossing his arms. “Iris’ll probably want to talk your head off anyway. Even if you’re not going to put her in the article.”
Prompto manages a smile. “Sure,” he says, and takes his leave. His hands are shaking a little, but he doesn’t know why. Maybe because he’s never been good at actually talking to girls. Maybe also because he’s not all that great at talking to really really attractive men, either.
He pushes through the door to the lobby to find Iris leaned against the counter, talking with Noctis. Both of them look up when he emerges from the kitchen.
“So?” Iris asks, excitedly. “What did you think?”
“Impressive,” he says, nodding. He clears his throat and gets a handle on himself. “I would be scared to eat anything he made. It’s too pretty.”
“You’re telling me!” She laughs, and opens the display case before pulling out a galette. It’s still early, so it must be a breakfast item, considering the egg in the middle of it. It looks absolutely to die for. “Look at this! It’s perfect! Iggy is the best!”
Noctis chuckles, and Prompto looks up at him. “It tastes even better than it looks, though.” He says.
Iris makes a face. “Honestly,” she says. “Noct has no qualms about just shoving whatever Iggy puts in front of him into his mouth. Never appreciates it’s beauty.”
“Hey!” Noctis says, clearly a little offended. “He designated me taste-tester. It’s like my job.”
“As opposed to your actual job, which you’re always skipping out on to come here,” she teases.
Oh, this is as good a time as any to figure out where he knows the name Lucis Caelum from. “What do you do?” Prompto asks innocently, trying not to sound prying.
Noctis rolls his eyes and looks away. He seems grumpy. “Oh, he’s just the worst,” Iris says, shaking her head. “He works for his dad. They own their own company. Noct is big business. He just avoids it at all cost.”
“That’s not true!” He bites back. “I put in my hours! I do what I have to. It’s just…” He scoffs. “It’s not like I asked for my position, Iris. We’ve talked about this.” His voice is a little strained.
“But it’s not what you want to do?” Prompto asks.
Noctis just blinks at him for a moment before sighing. “It doesn’t matter. It’s what I have to do.”
So, a classic case of family duty. He’s like business royalty, the exact opposite of Prompto. He’s not exactly jealous, though, even if that means that this dark-haired boy is beyond rich. Prompto is free to do pretty much whatever he wants, barring it costs any money, and it seems like Noctis is stuck in a life he doesn’t want to be in. Everything comes at a cost, though. He thinks maybe he wouldn’t mind being a little trapped if it meant being surrounded by people like this, people who love him. So is Noctis lucky, or isn’t he?
It’s none of his business, he guesses.
“So what about you, Prompto?” Iris asks. “Do you like what you do?”
He smiles now, and nods. “Yeah, more than anything. It was always my dream to be a professional photographer, and now I’m here.”
“Do you like photographing desserts, though?” Noctis asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Well,” Prompto returns, and he looks down at his camera. “I mean I like it. It’s not probably what I want to do forever, but I like it for now.”
“What do you want to photograph?” Iris asks, and she’s clearly interested, just like her brother was. Maybe it’s an Amicitia trait, connecting with people.
He shrugs. “What does any photog want their subject to be? Something meaningful. I’d like to catalogue something important, I guess.”
“What do you mean by important?”
“I don’t know,” he says, and he feels a little embarrassed. Being put on the spot isn’t easy. “A journey, maybe? It doesn’t have to be universally important, even though that would be nice, too. But something that means something to people.”
“Like an adventure,” Iris asks. “Or some discovery?”
He nods. “Yeah. I want...to create a story with my photographs.”
The two others are quiet for a moment, and then look at each other. When they look back at him, Iris is smiling and Noctis’s eyes are bright. “Sounds fun,” she says. “We’ve always wanted to take an adventure, haven’t we, Noct? Wouldn’t that be cool?”
Noctis crosses his arms. “Very cool.”
“Yeah,” she nods, and throws her arms behind her back. “All over Lucis in the Regalia, with the top down and the wind in our hair!” She seems really happy. “I’ve always wanted to visit Lestallum.”
“Sounds hot,” Noctis frowns. “How about on the coast?”
“What? Like Galdin Quay? That’s an island getaway, Noct, not an adventure!”
“The fishing is good,” is all he returns with.
Iris rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so boring. An adventure has to be full of fun and...adventure! Maybe even a little danger!”
“Danger?” Noctis asks. “Gladio would blow a gasket if we put you in danger.”
Iris puffs out her bottom lip. “Gladdy would be fine. I need to learn how to protect myself anyway!”
Prompto can’t help but smile. The two are obviously close, and it’s nice to see them interacting. He’s not around friends like this a lot. Although. They could be more than friends? “Are you two…?” he asks.
Iris catches on first and laughs, even though she’s blushing. “What? Noct and I? No way,” she waves a hand in front of her face.
It seems as though Noctis catches on now, too. He grimaces. “Gladio would kill me. Literally.”
Seems excessive, but he did catch a little bit of the ‘protective older brother’ vibes back there. He feels a little weird about having asked that, but he felt he wanted to know for some reason. The two of them make it really easy to forget he hasn’t known them more than a few minutes. They’re fun.
“Besides,” Iris says, and she grins at Noctis. “Noctis already has Luna.”
“Iris,” he groans.
“What?”
“You know what.”
Luna? Luna must be a girlfriend, then. Prompto wonders what she’s like. Is she like the rest of them? She’s probably beautiful, to have the attention of someone as handsome as Noctis. But that’s a little shallow, isn’t it? Prompto likes to think himself above it, but considering how the first thing he notices about people is their appearance probably has something to say about that. It’s just human nature, though, right? It’s the only thing you can judge someone on before speaking with them. So, yeah, everyone in the bakery is unusually attractive, and he tries not to feel too bad for noticing that. They’re also friendly, though, even if Mr. Scientia is a little rigid towards him. So, friendly and good looking. How dangerous.
The door behind him opens and he turns. A sweet smell wafts out of the kitchen and he thinks his knees might go a little weak. “They’re ready,” Mr. Scientia tells them, and Iris rushes past Prompto to get into the kitchen. Noctis moves quick, too, and he follows behind. It’s the scent of berries again, strong like when he first walked into the bakery. There’s also a little bit of...banana maybe? And chocolate. The scent profile is very intense, and maybe a couple of months ago he would have just said it smelled nice, but now he can catch all of the little accents. Maybe he can’t bake, but he knows quite a bit in theory. Theory doesn’t help all that much, though, when he goes home and tries to replicate whatever he saw. He’s usually just happy if it’s edible. Pastries can go so wrong.
Mr. Amicitia is standing by the prep table, arms still crossed, tattoos dark against his skin, and Mr. Scientia walks up beside him. Prompto wonders for a moment why they don’t have the same last name, and thinks himself a little stupid for not realizing before. Married couples usually at least hyphenate. But again, it’s not his business. These people are just so kind that he finds that he wants to be a part of it all. The thought is a striking one, but yeah, he really would like to fit in with a group like this.
Noctis is eyeing the vol-au-vents with a gleaming eye, as is Iris. “You’ll have to let me know how they fare, Noct,” Mr. Scientia says, and the familiarity and softness in his voice is such a stark contrast to how Prompto’s heard him speak thus far that he’s almost left reeling. “But first, allow Mr. Argentum a few photographs?”
The dark-haired boy looks at Prompto, then nods slowly, and Prompto walks up to the pastries. They look even more beautiful close-up, and the smell is almost cloyingly sweet. He still has the microlens on, so he leans in to take in the detail of the crust, the whipped cream, then backs up a little to switch lenses and take a photograph of the six of them lined up together. “Can I get a photograph of the inside?”
“Certainly,” Mr. Scientia nods, and grabs a knife before placing one on a delicate looking plate and cutting it in half. The filling oozes out, a mix of raspberry and chocolate, it seems, and Prompto has seen a lot of desserts, but this is probably one of the most appetizing things he’s ever seen. In his top three, at the least.
He leans in close, takes a few pictures, then backs off. “Alright,” he says, and takes a step back. “Thanks, I think I have what I need.”
“Excellent,” Mr. Scientia nods, and then grabs a few more plates. He hands the one that was cut into to Mr. Amicitia, who rolls his eyes, but takes it, and then places another on a plate and hands it to Prompto. “I hope you enjoy it.”
“Oh, um,” he starts, blinking down at the pastry. “Thank you.” His voice is a little weak, a little shaky. He’s not often offered the desserts he takes pictures of. He notices Noctis and Iris push against each other to get one of their own, completely disregarding Mr. Scientia and his idea of plates. They both just use a hand to catch crumbs. The patissier grimaces, but doesn’t seem surprised. He’s probably pretty used to it, actually.
Prompto swallows a bit before looking at his vol-au-vent again. He wants to savor it, but he also wants to inhale it. He’s very torn. He ends up picking it up gingerly, in much the same way Mr. Scientia picked up his camera, and sniffs it before making a soft noise and biting into it.
Noctis was right earlier. It does taste better than it looks, and that’s certainly saying something. It’s gotta be the best thing he’s ever eaten, although it may be the heat of the moment making him say that. This pastry is about as close as he’s ever gotten to a religious experience, though. He can taste all the different layers of flavor, the depth of it all - everything that he smelled is amplified in taste. It’s not cloyingly sweet, as it seemed when he was up close and taking photographs. The dark chocolate’s bitterness takes away from the sweetness of the raspberry and banana filling, and the crust is just the right thickness that it doesn’t feel runny. The whipped cream, too, must be handmade. It’s light and fluffy, and doesn’t have the artificial taste that canned whipped cream has.
He could go on for hours about its taste, about how it’s effectively changed his life, but when he catches a look at Noctis, he’s a little taken aback. There’s a contemplative look in his blue eyes, and he chews almost thoughtfully. Considering how excited he seemed to try it, this is a little shocking. Mr. Scientia is looking at him carefully, watching his expression. “It’s amazing, Ignis,” Noctis nods. “But I think a little too much banana.”
“Ah, yes, I did try adding a little more,” the patissier admits. “But only because you said it wasn’t enough last time.” There’s an almost wry undertone to his words. Mr. Amicitia chuckles softly.
Noctis shrugs. “There wasn’t. How much did you add?"
“Just two bananas, mashed,” he offers.
“Hmm, well try one and a half next time.” But even as he says this he takes another pastry. This one he eats a little more voraciously, at least compared to the thoughtful chewing from before.
Prompto can’t tell that anything is wrong with it at all. He’s not sure of why Noctis is so nit-picky about it despite seeming to love it so much, but maybe that’s just his personality. Prompto doesn’t know any of them well enough to make a proper judgement about it.
After they’ve all finished, and there are none left of the original six, Prompto heads back into the lobby with the rest of the group. He clicks through his pictures as he walks, mentally taking note of the ones that look the best. Composition wise, the close-ups are the best, but they don’t really do the pastries justice. The lighting is good in all of them, though. He’s glad he has such a high quality camera that he can pick up just how flaky the vol-au-vents were.
He’s so wrapped up in his photographs that he runs straight into someone. Blinking, a little startled, he jumps back. It’s a young boy - well, younger than him, at least. Maybe around sixteen or so, dressed in plaid and wearing a nice haircut. “Sorry,” he chuckles, and looks down at Prompto’s camera. “I didn’t damage it, did I?”
Prompto looks down at his Nikon. Everything looks the same. The display isn’t missing any pixels or anything. He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “But, hey, I should be the one apologizing,” he rubs his arm nervously. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
The boy waves him off. “No big deal,” he says, and then looks around him. Prompto turns as well.
“Talcott!” Iris laughs, running up to him. “You’re late! Noct ate the extra vol-au-vent.”
Talcott looks at Noctis, amused. Noctis doesn’t look bothered in the least. “I’ll be alright,” he laughs. “Sorry I’m late, though. Grandfather needed help with something.”
Iris harrumphs, but seems to accept his answer before dragging him towards Noctis and engaging them in conversation. Prompto takes this time to walk up to Mr. Scientia. “Ah, yes,” the patissier nods. “The release. I don’t mind you using any of the photographs you’ve taken, so long as they’re strictly on the subject manner.”
“I was going to take one of the storefront and lobby before I left, too.”
“That’s quite alright,” Mr. Scientia says, and he holds out a hand, presumably to look at the camera. Prompto takes it from around his neck and hands it to him. For a few seconds his face is completely passive - he scrolls through the various pictures and hums at certain places, and then hands it back to its owner. “They’re phenomenal. You have talent.”
Prompto flushes; getting a compliment from Mr. Scientia seems like a big deal. He catches Mr. Amicitia’s eye and gets a small, amused smile from him. Prompto has to resist the urge to flush further. He was caught. It’s normal to be pleased about being complimented, though. It’s not his fault!
“Th-thanks,” he nods, and Mr. Scientia smiles at him. It’s not exactly bright, but Prompto is grateful for it nonetheless. Maybe he’s just slow to warm up. “Um, I’ll come by within the next couple of days with the release forms and hard copies of the photographs.” He rummages through his bag and pulls out a business card that has his name, number, and email on it, as well as contact information for the company. “You can call if you need anything, Mr. Scientia.”
The patissier takes it from him. “Call me Ignis, please,” he says, almost off-handedly. “I hardly want to sound older than I already appear.”
It’s a joke, Prompto thinks, so he laughs. That appears to have been the appropriate response, seeing as Ignis smiles at him again.
“Well, see you soon,” he says, waving to everyone. They all look over at him and smile, wave back, and he locks eyes with Noctis’. He doesn’t know why. But then he tears his gaze away and exits the building.
The air outside of the bakery is warm, almost stuffy, compared to the inside of the lobby. He misses it already, the smell and the atmosphere. He doesn’t usually find himself so drawn to the places he takes pictures at. Then again, most of the time the workers aren’t so pleasant and friendly, he doesn’t usually feel so welcome.
He straightens his vest and walks down the way towards the subway, keeping his camera bag close. It’s a bit of a walk home, so he’s going to have to take public transit. He doesn’t usually mind it, but he gets nervous when he has his camera with him - it’s probably one of the most expensive items he owns, nevermind of immense personal value.
He doesn’t know what he would do if he lost it.
Vyv fans himself, even though the air conditioning in the building is on full blast, and flips through the pictures Prompto had printed out. He nods and hums every few seconds, and tosses them on Prompto’s desk when he’s finished. “Magnificent!” He says. “Truly inspired.” Another nod. “Have you gotten the release for them, yet?”
Prompto shakes his head. “Not yet. I was gonna call them on my lunch.”
Vyv smiles brightly. “This is something the readers’ll really love! I haven’t seen a vol-au-vent in forever! Makes me feel like traveling back to Tenebrae!”
Vyv’s enthusiasm is always contagious. Prompto beams at him; his boss usually likes his photos, he’s easily pleased, but it’s still nice. He picks up his pictures and looks through them - they really will look good on the glossy pages of the magazine. It’s hard not to feel a little prideful. He thinks back to what Ignis said, finds himself flushed with happiness again. It’s really nice to be recognized.
“Well, get that release signed. Dino already went yesterday for the interview, so that’s all that’s left!”
He’s excited to be able to return to the bakery, but it also means he won’t have a good excuse to go back again after. He guesses he could just say he liked the food, though, which wouldn’t even be a lie.
“I’ll go after work,” he tells Vyv, and nods quickly. His boss claps him on the shoulder and then strolls away from his desk and Prompto breathes out and falls into his chair. He swirls around to his computer and brings up the editing software again. The pictures for the article are finished, but he has others. Things not related to pastries, mostly found around the city; graffiti, old cars, an abandoned movie theater, just things that felt like they were screaming to be photographed.
He calls the bakery on his lunch and Iris answers, promises to relay his message that he’s coming by to Ignis, and heads on out once it hits four-thirty. Luckily the bakery isn’t far from his work, so he can walk there, enjoy the nice summer day. He prefers the air conditioning, has never been really attracted to the outdoors, but he can’t deny that a sunny day is great for his mood.
He pushes open the door to the building slowly, peering in, and finds Iris and Talcott standing by a plant in the corner, talking about something while Iris waters it. She turns her head at his entrance and shoves the watering pail into Talcott’s hand before running over to him. “Prom!” She says, and Prompto blinks at her. He doesn’t usually get nicknames. “It’s good that you’re here! Noctis had a meeting so we need a taste-tester. And you know desserts, right? It has to be you!”
Prompto can’t help but smile and laugh. “I’d be, uh, honored.”
She nods. “You’re damn right!” He’s lugged behind the counter and through the door into the kitchen. It smells heavily of chocolate.
Ignis straightens from where he’d been bent over what appears to be a mousse and looks at the both of them. “Hello again,” the man says, and Prompto waves at him. He feels excited already, just being in the presence of these people.
“Hi,” he returns cheerily.
“Prom is gonna taste the mousse! He’s been working with desserts for a while so he should be a good stand in!”
Ignis considers him carefully, and then smiles. “Of course,” he says, backing away from the dessert he’d been working with. He gestures to it and Prompto walks closer; it’s a mix of browns and white, and has a clear sheen to it. It’s quite beautiful.
Ignis hands him a small dessert spoon and Prompto looks at the mousse a little closer. He wants to take a picture of it. “Can I get a photo?” He asks.
“Of the mousse?” Ignis asks, sounding a little surprised. “May I ask why?”
“It’s pretty,” he returns, almost sheepishly, a small grin on his face.
“Well, then…by all means.”
He sets his camera bag down on the prep table, grateful that he carries it with him almost everywhere he goes, to the point where it’s an extension of him, and unloads the Nikon. He uses a smaller lens and adjusts the aperture before - click, click, click. The sound of a shutter moving quickly. Once he’s satisfied he backs up and hands it over to Ignis. The patissier nods as he looks at the pictures, and then hands it back. “Astounding as always.”
“I wanna see!” Iris calls, bounding up, leaning against him heavily. He laughs, even though the close proximity makes him a little nervous, and angles the camera so she can see the pictures as well. “They’re beautiful! Can I see some others?”
Prompto isn’t exactly private about his photos, they all go on a blog anyway, but he always feels a little bared when people look through his unedited stuff. He gives it to her anyway and takes a bite of the mousse. It’s light, airy, the way a mousse should be, but has an underlying flavor that he can’t really place. He sets the dish down and smiles at Ignis. “It’s delicious! What’s in it?”
Ignis gives him an amused look. “You can’t tell?”
“Noct would be able to tell,” Iris puts in, teasingly.
Prompto immediately feels a little embarrassed. “Ah - wait! Give me a second!” He picks up the mousse once more and takes another bite, savoring it on his tongue. The chocolate is almost overpowering, which is why it’s so hard to identify the other ingredients. It’s very rich, too, which doesn’t help. He definitely couldn’t eat more than one. He really shouldn’t, anyway. He tries not to make a habit of eating most of the desserts that he photographs, because he works hard to not put weight on - again - but it would be beyond rude to reject an offer from the patissier. That’s what he tells himself, anyway.
He considers the mousse further. So much chocolate. But there’s just a hint of salty there, too. It’s a little odd to taste in a mousse, but it tempers the sweetness; it’s not bad, just different. “Salted,” he says, once he swallows. “Caramel?”
Salted caramel is probably the only kind of salty that would work in a mousse. And it does work, even if it’s a little different.
“Indeed,” Ignis nods, and he seems pleased.
Prompto absently fidgets with the hem of his vest. “It was, um, a little hard to find underneath all the chocolate.”
This, Ignis seems to consider. “Less chocolate, then?”
He nods, a little relieved that Ignis isn’t offended at the suggestion that it’s not a perfect dessert. “Or chocolate with less cocoa. What percentage was it?”
The patissier raises an eyebrow at him. “Sixty.”
“Maybe - maybe forty.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“We should keep you around,” Iris says, suddenly piping up. He’s a little startled, but turns to her. “For when Noct isn’t available."
“Uh,” he returns eloquently.
“Do you not want to?” She asks, still scrolling through his photos. He does have quite a few on there. He has a 128gb card in.
“It’s not that!” He insists, because it most certainly is not. “I just…” He’s just never encountered a situation like this. These people are beyond nice, but he’s met a lot of nice people in his life. He wants to take them up on their offer, because it’s nice to feel wanted, to be around friendly people, so he does. “Yeah,” he nods. “I’d - I’d like to stick around.”
Iris looks up at him and smiles one of the brightest smiles he’s ever seen. “Good!” She hands him his Nikon back. “Come by whenever you have time! I’m here after classes every day, and Iggy is always here. Gladdy is most of the time, too, and Talcott. Noct is here as much as he can be, sometimes more.” She laughs at herself. “And hey,” she goes on, putting her arms behind her back and leaning forward. “Maybe you can photograph our adventure, huh?
He’s met these people all of twice, but he knows that this has gotta be what it means to encounter destiny. Or at least, to be on his way.