The bed the Lucians had been given in the palace wasn't so bad.
It wasn't as comfortable as Gladio was used to, but he put that down to them being probably old. Fortunately, there weren't any errant springs jutting up to give him a bad night, but he couldn't speak for Ignis's experience. Maybe his side of the mattress was like the Mencemoor, who knew? He complained of sleeping badly, but that was nothing new. He'd joked about it being Gladio's snoring, but that was crap. He barely snored. Most likely, it was his dependence on coffee. He drank too much, slept badly because he was always hopped up on caffeine, and then had to drink more the next day to function, making it an endless cycle of insomnia. No capital letter.
Sharing hadn't been too bad. The beds were big enough to accommodate both of them, which was fortunate. He doubted he'd be as bright eyed and bushy tailed if he'd slept on the floor, but he had packed camping gear. The boot was full of it, well. It was full of that, and cans of ebony. He wondered how many of them were left. Nel, angel of the Lowerworld that she was, had been sweet enough to get him some half decent coffee, but Morrid Coffee, not even the top tier Kirman variety, wasn't Ebony.
Nice as the beds were, the shower left a lot to be desired. He supposed it was good that they didn't have to deal with communal showers, and that all of the rooms seemed to have an en suite, but the shower itself was old fashioned and there didn't seem to be much space between the 'The Searing Cauldron' and the 'Greyshire Grotto' settings.
Ignis had long been up by the time Gladio crawled out of bed, limbered up for the day ahead, and fought the shower. He was an early riser, which was fine by Gladio. He wasn't a slugabed himself, but he wasn't exactly up at cock crow either.
He could smell the scent of breakfast on the air as he crossed the hall. It made his stomach growl. The kitchen felt full of people, partly because of the concentration of mostly-concealed reiatsu, and half because of the sound of voices coming from inside.
He pushed the door open and looked around. Two women, one Nel, one new. Ignis, the Nif man, and a pink-haired stranger with glasses that even Gladio knew Ignis would consider virtually a crime to own.
"Morning," he rumbled, voice still half sleep-deep in spite of everything.
no subject
It wasn't as comfortable as Gladio was used to, but he put that down to them being probably old. Fortunately, there weren't any errant springs jutting up to give him a bad night, but he couldn't speak for Ignis's experience. Maybe his side of the mattress was like the Mencemoor, who knew? He complained of sleeping badly, but that was nothing new. He'd joked about it being Gladio's snoring, but that was crap. He barely snored. Most likely, it was his dependence on coffee. He drank too much, slept badly because he was always hopped up on caffeine, and then had to drink more the next day to function, making it an endless cycle of insomnia. No capital letter.
Sharing hadn't been too bad. The beds were big enough to accommodate both of them, which was fortunate. He doubted he'd be as bright eyed and bushy tailed if he'd slept on the floor, but he had packed camping gear. The boot was full of it, well. It was full of that, and cans of ebony. He wondered how many of them were left. Nel, angel of the Lowerworld that she was, had been sweet enough to get him some half decent coffee, but Morrid Coffee, not even the top tier Kirman variety, wasn't Ebony.
Nice as the beds were, the shower left a lot to be desired. He supposed it was good that they didn't have to deal with communal showers, and that all of the rooms seemed to have an en suite, but the shower itself was old fashioned and there didn't seem to be much space between the 'The Searing Cauldron' and the 'Greyshire Grotto' settings.
Ignis had long been up by the time Gladio crawled out of bed, limbered up for the day ahead, and fought the shower. He was an early riser, which was fine by Gladio. He wasn't a slugabed himself, but he wasn't exactly up at cock crow either.
He could smell the scent of breakfast on the air as he crossed the hall. It made his stomach growl. The kitchen felt full of people, partly because of the concentration of mostly-concealed reiatsu, and half because of the sound of voices coming from inside.
He pushed the door open and looked around. Two women, one Nel, one new. Ignis, the Nif man, and a pink-haired stranger with glasses that even Gladio knew Ignis would consider virtually a crime to own.
"Morning," he rumbled, voice still half sleep-deep in spite of everything.