"Never been good at driving a car," Prompto mutters, almost a joke, but the heart is missing from it. It feels like the heart is missing from his chest, so maybe everything's just matching it, now.

When the elevator gets to the bottom, Prompto steps out and hesitates, having to remember back, before cautiously stepping in the right direction to be able to leave. There's a part of him screaming to go back, that after so short of a time how can they be leaving Noct?!, but they're not. Noct left them, taken from them, and he's never coming back this time. All that hope that had kept him afloat for ten years hadn't popped yet and it would be so much worse when it did.

Out front, he... stops. The brilliant sunlight cascades over the broken city, over the buildings that stood in various stages between untouched and completely shattered, over empty window panes and touched items long left behind by the fleeing and the dead. This... this is what Noctis died for--

No. There's no one here, except them. This isn't what Noct died for. He died for the people, scattered to the four winds.

Or them. Just them. Prompto isn't certain what had been in Noct's heart at the end except for the photo he had taken with him.