[ Maybe he's not obligated, not. He's never been obligated to tell anyone, and yet, once he finally worked up the courage to do so, going out on a limb that he was sure would break beneath him, he didn't regret it one bit. His friends had only embraced him, their bonds stronger than ever for it. And Connor is his friend, too. They've traveled across worlds and somehow both landed here when so many others in the Circle did not. That has to count for something.

And...if there's anyone who would get this, everything attached to a number like this, it's Connor.

Still, it isn't easy, and it takes Prompto a long moment of his throat working soundlessly before he actually finds his voice again. ]

...you're a good friend, Connor. That's not something any old programming could teach you, y'know?

[ Then, his gaze drifts to the carnival game, cheery and colorful in sharp contrast to the serious, personal turn their conversation has taken. ]

Maybe we could...go talk somewhere else?