That made two of them, really. Yet every time he tried to close his eyes... he shook his head, running the milk-soaked towel under the faucet. If only to distract him for a moment, and that hope went up in smoke the moment Prompto asked.

"Not much to talk about." On his end, anyway. And for a while, he left it at that. That is, until he turned off the water. "Not even sure how to describe it. Other than waking up, not sure which is the dream." He looked to Prompto then, before remembering his eye thing and staring down at the towel in the sink. "You?"