It’s impossible to miss it, that self-deprecation that slides his way without Noctis truly reaching for it. It feels familiar, even if it isn’t his own. Not hatred, not really, but that feeling of being unable to know how to approach the problem of people, and all they stand for. Conversation, charm. Societal niceties, something that royalty should be more than adept in.

But… computers. A hook in the conversation that he can latch onto, coupled with curiosity.

(I have those in my world, too. I come from a city that’s practically covered in technology—)

The flickering of an image, of a grand city that reaches to the sky. Of giant screens plastered to the sides of tall buildings, of cell phones and cars and strange barriers that employ both magic and technology, as if the two were always meant to work together in tandem.

(—so this old-school way of going about gathering information isn’t exactly my strong suit either.)