If Ignis hadn't physically stopped him, Prompto wouldn't even have noticed. In preparing to meet whatever horror is within, whatever is about to be branded on his soul for the rest of whatever life is there to live, he is blind to nearly everything, like a chocobo with blinders on. He lifts his gaze, lips parted to ask what Ignis meant-

Then those words. ...Move him? Why? Prompto's brows come together, looking to Ignis with confusion before looking back to Gladio. It's difficult to read Gladio's face in that moment. Confusion? Surprise? Anger? He isn't sure what he sees in the momentary widening of Gladio's eyes, then how they closed, but it all ends in the vivid moment of pained sorrow that gets shut down behind a mask of emotionless. Prompto wishes, with everything in him, he could do that so easily.

"...I did."

Move him? "...Why?" Prompto barely recognizes his voice in the broken sound that is far too loud in the hall.