Third Floor Common Room; Sunday Morning [07/21].

[hashtag_chocobro]

Prompto was feeling...better. Not great, by any margin, but well enough that he didn't feel like he was slowly dying. He could actually breathe, even through his nose!, although it was all still a bit sniffly, and he had color back in his skin again that wasn't just freckles standing out in sharp relief against a corpse-grey pallor. Truth be told, he should probably still be in bed resting a little more, but he also had energy again, and he was feeling incredibly restless and really sick of just staring at his own room and his nightstand covered with tissues and cough medicine, even if most of his time there had been spent sleeping since Friday.

And so, wrapped in a blanket because despite the heat outside, Prompto was frickin' freezing his stupid skinny butt off, he shuffled down to the common room and heated up a bowl of chicken soup compliments the best girlfriend ever for breakfast (hey, at least it wasn't Cup Noodle TM?). Then he curled up comfortably on the couch and set to the task of finding out if there was anything good even on TV on a Sunday morning.

The answer? Not really. Like, at all.

Until, of course, he came across an old cowboy shoot-'em-up Western on some old movie station, because you know he'd be all about that sort of thing. And you could tell he really was feeling better because he spent half the time scoffing and criticizing the more unrealistic shots....and then wondering if...actually...no...maybe that could work? He was gonna have to try some of this stuff out...

[[ ohgods, someone please save me from Sunday morning shifts -_- Open common room is open! ]]