"Yeah, already got yours." Complete with a squeeze. No, not a damn bit of this was normal, not even before Noct had been taken from them, but... hell. If none of it was normal, then that was the new normal and Gladio was just going to go with it. What else could he do? He'd been doing it for so many years now, the constant changing and yet the horrible constant of the darkness, of his anger and hurt.

He snagged his pack and opened it, after Prompto showed him the way, and grabbed something out of it - a flash of what might have been soap, and of all things, a straight razor. "Shit, a clean towel? Must be my lucky day."

But he only got a few steps towards the door before, without even looking back, he offered, "hey, Prom. ...Just how big is that shower, anyway?"