Ignis isn't alone in hating this place; Gladio definitely has for all of the similar reasons and Prompto is learning it with vengeance right off the bat, for the only time he has, possibly will ever, known it is with the shrouded figure laying cold on the marble ahead. He knows there will be nightmares of this place, of that body getting up and talking to him, what it must look like beneath the heavy material. It hurts, standing there and staring down at it, like a blade sliding into his heart and turning.

For Ignis' touch on Gladio, there is only a quiet grunt of response, but between friends who have known so much of one another over the years, it speaks volumes. It's a verbal pat in return, it's an acknowledgement, it's a gratitude that he's not down here alone getting angrier at himself and the Astrals.

Gladio has to think back so many years to those times in Galdin Quay, when the sunshine his skin hasn't known in years poured like honey across the water and sand, when the scent of salt and water and something delicious cooking brushed up against his nose, when laughter - theirs, others - could be heard mixing with the sound of gulls and waves. It had been an easier time, a happier time, a place where they teased Noct about fishing and pulled up the second biggest fish Gladio had ever seen, all while cheering and hooting. It's a place that makes him think of the past and of better times, infinitely better than the dark, horrid place it's become in the last remaining years.

"Yeah." There's a bitterness in the back of his throat at how difficult that single word is to get out. "That sounds like the perfect place."