[Ah, the game is quickly altogether forgotten. They stand in a booth with bright blinking lights and a luridly fanciful screen asking potentially uncomfortable questions; Connor employs something he's learned over time, something he often times pretend he doesn't have: empathy. If he were to be asked something about his autonomy, about the tenets of his original mission, how easy would it be to respond when thrown under the spotlight, all under the guise of fun?

He frowns.]

No, you didn't. But that's all right, you know. You're not obligated to tell me everything about your life, especially if it makes you uncomfortable, Prompto.

[Brows cinched together, his tone softens a little.] But I'll listen, of course, if you do want to.