[he takes the cane, helps out with the clothes, and takes a few steps back as he watches v simply minding his best interests and putting on the sandals. prompto snorts and just shrugs his shoulders, as if giving up whatever stance he had against the shoes in the first place, and grinning.]

Dude, you're so weird.

[it's the kind of revelation prompto can't help making over and over.]

But, whatever makes you happy, I guess.

[he passes v his cane back, leaning down to pick up the sneakers from the floor by their tied laces. he'll carry your shit--en route to the register, where he dumps the clothes on and motions for v to slap the sticker onto his old shoes (which he'll probably never wear again).] I'll keep an eye out for places with sandals, I guess.

[to the person at the register] Hi! We'll take all of these. [the wristbands he picked out are also on the pile] He's got the shoes on, but here's the bar code for it, thanks.

[pleasantries, pleasantries, prompto leaning into the counter as they get rung up. what are the chances of prompto paying for everything? very high. he'll just say he got distracted and didn't think about it. he's just a very giving kind of person.]

[suddenly, v will get a message on his implant. prompto's conversing with the guy across the counter ringing up the total, but he has mastered the art of texting and talking; it's called multitasking, baby.]

[Bad username or site: prom @ argentum]
oh i nearly forgot
now that you have your id and all i can send you what gaby sent to us at the safehouse
here you go:

[and there it be, the copy paste of the text.]