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ruensroad · 7 years

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A little Promnis AU

He’s torn between a black or natural frame for his newest piece when Dino pokes his head into the back room with a very odd look on his face. And even though this is only the man’s part time job, they’ve seen their fair share of crazy and eccentric customers, so the look he shoots Prompto makes him both curious and a little worried about what sort of new weird has just entered the gallery.

“Customer for you, about your collection. Won’t give me more than that,” Dino huffs, a bit indignant now. He’s good looking and with the class of any first rate butler, so he’s a natural favorite even amongst the most high ranking customers that come through. He’s used to being appreciated, so this is most certainly a blow to his ego and rather explains why he follows this all with a very sour sounding, “Says he will only speak to the artist.”

Prompto bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at Dino’s very put out expression. Obviously this customer is weird, but a cute or very rich weird, which is the only real explanation for that pout he’s getting. Dino dislikes the weirdos, unless they are beautiful or are free enough with their money to compensate any and all eccentric tendencies.

“I’ll be right out,” Prompto promises, smoothing down his black vest and re-buttoning his cuffs, which he’d rolled up to get his sleeves out of the way. He prays he doesn’t look too rumpled, and is just about to ask Dino if he looks presentable when that look flickers over his face again. “What?”

“...let’s just say you don’t have to worry about what you look like,” Dino says, ominously, and with an air of disbelief. “I mean, you look fine, Prom, but don’t go out of your way. And everyone expects artists to be a little rumpled. It’s part of the charm?”

Prompto raises an eyebrow at that, but Dino’s gone before he can demand a more satisfying answer. Sighing, he nonetheless rechecks himself in a mirror leaning against the wall before taking a deep breath and putting on his best smile.

The gallery is slow today, at least for now, so it’s no trouble finding the customer in question. At present, he’s the only one in Prompto’s section of the gallery, facing one of Prompto’s cityscape photos of Lucis at sundown, the glittering city caught in the deep rich oranges and reds of the setting sun. Beside him sits a very fluffy, very petite white dog, which Prompto chances a grimace at. The man has his back turned, so he can’t see it anyway.

The dog notices him first and wags its tail. Prompto immediately wants to squish its cheeks and coo, but restrains himself, Dino’s words about his appearance still fresh in his mind. If the dog is the type to jump up, his suit will be ruined in moments, covered in very noticeable hairs. This must’ve been what Dino was warning him about.

Dogs are also not allowed in the gallery, which means this man must be rich enough to pay off the owner. Prompto wipes his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants and prays the dog doesn’t attack or jump on him and ruin his first impression, given he can’t exactly run back and change into a white suit, not when half the customers have seen him. Nothing for it but to keep walking.

But then the man turns his head and everything just sort of stops.

“Yes?” asks the man after a moment and Prompto realizes he’s been staring. Stifling a terrified laugh, Prompto offers his hand, then feels like an idiot, and makes a choked noise that the man tilts his head at.

“I, uh, was told you wanted to speak to me?” Prompto squeaks. He clears his throat immediately, blushing hard and mentally kicking himself. So much for that good first impression. “I’m Prompto Argentum,” he adds in a far more natural register and clasps his hands behind his back to keep from downright flailing.

“Ah, Mr. Argentum, a pleasure,” the man sticks his hand out and Prompto takes it, trying not to fall over himself at the surprisingly endearing sight of a very put together man missing him by a good foot. “I was told under no uncertain terms to engage your services directly.”

“Oh?” Prompto blinks in surprise, letting his feelings show on his face. It hardly matters, if he’s right, because the man can’t see him anyway. And doesn’t that just take the cake. A blind man in a photo gallery. He doesn’t know if that just sad or adorably concerning. “May I ask who gave the order?” he adds with a bit of a tease, because the man is so obviously out of his depth here.

“Let’s just say an enthusiast,” the man sighs and removes his glasses to rub at his eyes. One is horribly scarred, confirming Prompto’s suspicions, and the other is a tragically beautiful shade of blue, though a tad cloudy. Prompto is struck, quite suddenly, how handsome the man is regardless of the scars and obvious signs of past trauma. He’s got great cheekbones, to start, and well dressed hair. His suit is in impeccable order and he’s in obvious great shape. Not exactly Prompto’s type, but he wouldn’t be a fraction of the photographer he is if he didn’t know how to appreciate any and all forms of beauty and the man is most certainly beautiful.

“A rich enthusiast, given they allowed you to bring a dog in here,” Prompto chuckles and smiles at the little dog, who wags its tail back even more happily than before. “I’d figure your dog is a seeing eye dog, but it’s not wearing a vest, which means a pet and the owner here doesn’t let just anyone break the rules.”

The man blinks, as if just realizing how it looks. “Ah, yes, she is a pet,” he affirms. “Not mine either. She needed the walk and I found myself with the time and opportunity to give it.”

“She’s adorable,” Prompto kneels down and offers her a hand to sniff. She’s obviously not the jumping up kind, given his suit isn’t covered in white hairs already, and gives into the urge to squish her cheeks when she excitedly steps into his hands. He doesn’t realize he’s actually cooing until the man gives a soft cough that may just be a sort of laugh and Prompto realizes where he is.

He stands quickly, back to blushing, and finds his world teetering again when the man gives him an indulgent smile. It’s small, but super lovely, and Prompto may just be in some trouble.

“Sorry,” he says, trying for a more professional air. “I’m a bit weak around adorable dogs.”

“Understandable. Pryna is rather adorable,” the man says with a straight face, as though stating a mere fact of life. It shouldn’t be nearly as charming as it is.

Not the only adorable one here, Prompto thinks merrily and gently touches the man’s arm to lead him further into the collection. “Did this enthusiast happen to tell you which piece they wanted? Or just a vague idea of what to look for?”

The man actually looks a bit abashed, which has Prompto immediately grinning. “I fear the latter. He saw your work in some magazine or another and thought one of your landscapes would do well as a wedding gift to his bride.”

“No pressure or anything,” Prompto says, not sure if he means for him personally, or for the poor blind man tasked to get a picture worthy of such an occasion without being able to see it. “Did you have something in mind for him, then? A cityscape, or something more natural?”

“A few options,” the man tells him with a nod. “She is rather particular to flowers, so if you have a gardenscape, I would be interested in it.”

“I have a couple,” Prompto tells him, thinking over the pictures in question. “Is she from Lucius?”

“Tenebrae,” is the answer and Prompto beams.

“I have one from Tenebrae,” he offers, leading the man towards the photo. It’s one of his favorites, a pink-lit morning in a lily garden, with a cityscape behind. He describes it as best he can to the man without being prompted, figuring that would be the best way to go about this.

It’s suprisingly fun to do so, he finds, and excitedly tells the man about certain details too easily overlooked by people merely looking at it for the beauty. Every picture is a story, he tells the man, and this one is about renewal. A new start. A new day. The flowers are just opening, the butterflies unfolding their dew-wet wings. Tomorrow is gone, but not forgotten. The present is a gift.

“That’s why it’s called a present, after all,” he ends with, feeling proud of his work. The man had been quiet through all of his detailing, but huffs a soft laugh at that, gaze gentle on the picture as though he can see it. Perhaps he can, in his own way. The idea makes Prompto flush.

“Indeed,” says the man and gives a nod after a moment. “I generally do not go for first choice, but something feels very right about this one. I believe it will do very well.”

Prompto beams ear to ear. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” the man chuckles and offers his hand again. “Thank you, Mr. Argentum. I will take this one.”

He’s off by a foot again and Prompto can’t hold back a giggle as he warmly clasps the man’s hand back. “I’m glad to hear it, Mr…?”

That gets him a blink, then the man looks abashed all over again. And… is that a blush?

“Forgive me, please call me Ignis,” he says quickly, obviously embarrassed by his slip up.

“Only if you call me Prompto,” is his reply, lighthearted and just on that side of flirting to see if that blush gets any shade darker.

It does. “Prompto,” Ignis repeats, shaking his hand again. “Thank you for your time.”

“A true and honest pleasure,” Prompto tells him, and it’s the truth. “And happy to help. If your enthusiast wants another picture from me, you know where to find me.” He hopes his wink is audible in his words.

Ignis gives the kind of laugh Prompto has heard himself make when he can’t believe someone may just be flirting with him but is delighted, if not surprised, regardless. It’s a good thing their hands are still clasped, because Prompto feels like he’s about to float away.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ignis says and it sounds like a promise. Prompto grins and leads him to the owner to settle the payment, then gives Pryna’s cheeks one more squish before they leave. Prompto doesn’t feel the absence more than he feels the space Ignis had taken up, and the imprints he’d left behind in Prompto’s mind, maybe even his heart. No one has the right to be so adorable and charming and waltz into Prompto’s life. He’s terrible at getting over such things.

But two days later, as he’s debating a white frame or a black one, Dino sticks his head in with that same look to inform him that blind gentleman is asking for you again and he realizes that maybe he doesn’t have to get over this one. Not this time.

#ruenwrites #promnis

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