Prompto really thinks he got away with it, and for a little time, sighs in relief in his bed, drawing the covers over his annoying horns and his annoying spikes and his annoying, awful, painful deformed lumps on his back, and the extra annoying sail fins between them, too. All of it. It makes him too exposed, keeps him from being able to wear enough clothing to cover the body he was already so insecure about. He doesn't think his (...are they his?) scales or spikes are ugly per se- the lumps are unnerving, especially as they begin to pull and stretch his skin in unnatural ways in an attempt to form into wings- but being forced to go practically shirtless is just far, far too much for the conscious blond.

It was why he's been skipping out on training, despite hating doing so. He can't stand the thought of people seeing his body.

Bang, bang, bang

Prompto jolts. It sounds like metal on wood. He suddenly realizes that, oh shit, the clinking of metal before it was not some stress-induced auditory hallucination.

It was Ravus. Some deep part of him receives an alien wave of satisfaction over that, despite his first instinct being to groan aloud. Was that Sjerit? She only has a moment or two of the blond's attention. Something else is about to steal it away with aplomb. When he peeks out from under his blanket, slitted blue eyes go absolutely huge. He squeaks, and nearly topples forward out of the bed entirely. Prompto only just manages to balance on the edge, covered by his warm armor. The outfit Ravus is wearing gives him a front-row view of his plush chest, and his hips.

He's- oh, wow.

"H-huh? Look sick? You can't even see me!"

Prompto feels the equivalent of an exhausted eyeroll from within.