Ignis rises from where he'd finished his own breakfast and goes to prepare an omelette for Gladio. It's a relatively quick affair, at least. He'd left out everything he needed.
John listens intently to the advice, even if he... apparently doesn't need to? Still, he supposes he can just rely on his military manners. If he's the most formal one at this little get together, so be it. Better to impress with good behavior than embarrass his Sentinel or the prince by being a little too casual.
Instead of letting that sense of being on edge translate fully over the Bond, John consciously adjusts what he's putting out to favor the general eagerness he's also feeling. This is a chance to help with whatever the poisoned potions are.
"I'll do my best, mate. Managed not to trip over my own feet the first time I met her." Granted, he'd just been stood there at attention and offered a 'thank you, m'am' when she'd addressed him briefly for the transfer of a small piece of her magic for the battlefield. Still, that... should serve him well enough.
An omelette is delivered to Gladio's plate and Ignis goes off to fetch his black shirt for John. While his Sentinel eats, the Guide heads off to change into his dress attire. He feels a like a priest, dressed all in a black formal suit, but it really can't be helped. At least it's slimming? Not that he needs much help with that these days. John does take a moment to slick his hair back with a little gel to give it a touch of flair. It's too short to do much with, as far as styling goes, but the others seem to have a thing for interesting haircuts. John considers trying to grow out a mustache or a beard for a long moment before deciding against it. He already looks older than the other men. He doesn't need to further accentuate it and make himself feel ancient.
"Think I'm ready to go whenever the rest of us are," John offers as he steps back out to the common area. Ignis' shirt is tight around the chest and long in the arms, but it's a decent fit for the moment.
Shall we timeskip a bit to arriving at Luna's place?
John listens intently to the advice, even if he... apparently doesn't need to? Still, he supposes he can just rely on his military manners. If he's the most formal one at this little get together, so be it. Better to impress with good behavior than embarrass his Sentinel or the prince by being a little too casual.
Instead of letting that sense of being on edge translate fully over the Bond, John consciously adjusts what he's putting out to favor the general eagerness he's also feeling. This is a chance to help with whatever the poisoned potions are.
"I'll do my best, mate. Managed not to trip over my own feet the first time I met her." Granted, he'd just been stood there at attention and offered a 'thank you, m'am' when she'd addressed him briefly for the transfer of a small piece of her magic for the battlefield. Still, that... should serve him well enough.
An omelette is delivered to Gladio's plate and Ignis goes off to fetch his black shirt for John. While his Sentinel eats, the Guide heads off to change into his dress attire. He feels a like a priest, dressed all in a black formal suit, but it really can't be helped. At least it's slimming? Not that he needs much help with that these days. John does take a moment to slick his hair back with a little gel to give it a touch of flair. It's too short to do much with, as far as styling goes, but the others seem to have a thing for interesting haircuts. John considers trying to grow out a mustache or a beard for a long moment before deciding against it. He already looks older than the other men. He doesn't need to further accentuate it and make himself feel ancient.
"Think I'm ready to go whenever the rest of us are," John offers as he steps back out to the common area. Ignis' shirt is tight around the chest and long in the arms, but it's a decent fit for the moment.