The hand slowly moves away from Ignis' back, but not far away. Instead, it falls to lay by Ignis' side, as if wanting to keep offering what little he can but completely uncertain of what to do. It doesn't feel like there's anything to give, but he has to, somehow, for his friend. For the two people he had left that he cared about in this world.

"Black, yeah. Royal color and all that, right?" His voice cracks, terribly, but he keeps right to the end of the sentence. His other hand clenches in the material of his uniform, holding tight to it so he doesn't just fall apart with his own words echoing in the room. "They're super smart, so... there has to be some chocobos out there." Though, in his heart, he knows that's probably not true. IF a chocobo somehow manages to live with nearly all plant life dead and IF a chocobo manages not to get killed by daemons and IF a chocobo manages not to be changed into a monster...

But he needs to believe in something. Anything. Otherwise, he's going to drown.