[ Aranea doesn't even grace his final set of texts with a response, though she mentally kicks herself for walking right into them. Well, all things considered, she'd probably meant to at this point; their little encounter from before had been the best she's had in a while, and while that isn't saying terribly much, it still means something. Something terrible, likely, but something nonetheless.
A little healthy fear never hurt anyone, and as far as Aranea is concerned, that much goes both ways. She isn't afraid of Prompto's ability to hurt her in the least, but she has to admit that she's a bit bothered by how quickly she'd jumped to his rescue. She's already in Galdin and he's already screaming in panty-wetting terror at her landing so the damage has been done, but the way she regards him through the Regalia's tinted windows is cold and almost calculating.
Arching a delicate brow at the way he's covering himself, Aranea very nearly turns around and walks away. This is beyond ridiculous, much in the same way her deeming him worthy of her assistance is beyond her. The complete turnaround in his behavior makes her scoff again, gripping the haft of her spear with a strength that could splinter wood. ]
Can it. I'll leave you in there if you keep spouting shit like that, [ She huffs, tilting the visor of her helm upwards in order to take a good look at what she's dealing with. Aranea has no way of getting into the car cleanly; even if she'd brought a toolkit, the Regalia's antitheft measurements are top of the line. She wouldn't have been surprised if it had been imbued with some of that Lucian magic, honestly, though she sincerely doubts it. Her eyes rove over the windows, assessing how much it'd cost to repair them if she just punched them in.
She stares long and hard at the glass in front of Prompto's hand, glaring hard enough to burn holes into his skin. Noctis and the rest were probably nearby, and it'd probably be best if she'd hunted them down and asked them-- politely, of course-- if they could let Prompto out of his prison. If she did that, though, it would likely result in a waste of the time she'd spent coming all the way down to the Quay... and, as everyone in the world knows, time is money. ]
Alright, this one's coming outta your wallet, [ Aranea resolves, yanking her lance up from its stand in the ground before circling around to the other side of the car. Leveling the blade of her lance with one of the rear windows, she calls a warning as she lowers her visor again. ] Sit still, but dibs on your liver and lungs if I get you. Shit goes for a pretty penny over in Lestallum.
[ With that, she launches her spear into the glass, completely prepared to trip the klaxon wail of the Regalia's alarm... but also completely caught off-guard when no such thing happens. Huh. Convenient. ]
no subject
A little healthy fear never hurt anyone, and as far as Aranea is concerned, that much goes both ways. She isn't afraid of Prompto's ability to hurt her in the least, but she has to admit that she's a bit bothered by how quickly she'd jumped to his rescue. She's already in Galdin and he's already screaming in panty-wetting terror at her landing so the damage has been done, but the way she regards him through the Regalia's tinted windows is cold and almost calculating.
Arching a delicate brow at the way he's covering himself, Aranea very nearly turns around and walks away. This is beyond ridiculous, much in the same way her deeming him worthy of her assistance is beyond her. The complete turnaround in his behavior makes her scoff again, gripping the haft of her spear with a strength that could splinter wood. ]
Can it. I'll leave you in there if you keep spouting shit like that, [ She huffs, tilting the visor of her helm upwards in order to take a good look at what she's dealing with. Aranea has no way of getting into the car cleanly; even if she'd brought a toolkit, the Regalia's antitheft measurements are top of the line. She wouldn't have been surprised if it had been imbued with some of that Lucian magic, honestly, though she sincerely doubts it. Her eyes rove over the windows, assessing how much it'd cost to repair them if she just punched them in.
She stares long and hard at the glass in front of Prompto's hand, glaring hard enough to burn holes into his skin. Noctis and the rest were probably nearby, and it'd probably be best if she'd hunted them down and asked them-- politely, of course-- if they could let Prompto out of his prison. If she did that, though, it would likely result in a waste of the time she'd spent coming all the way down to the Quay... and, as everyone in the world knows, time is money. ]
Alright, this one's coming outta your wallet, [ Aranea resolves, yanking her lance up from its stand in the ground before circling around to the other side of the car. Leveling the blade of her lance with one of the rear windows, she calls a warning as she lowers her visor again. ] Sit still, but dibs on your liver and lungs if I get you. Shit goes for a pretty penny over in Lestallum.
[ With that, she launches her spear into the glass, completely prepared to trip the klaxon wail of the Regalia's alarm... but also completely caught off-guard when no such thing happens. Huh. Convenient. ]