[Noctis is an observant man, and he's known Prompto for far too long to not notice the wetness around his eyes. Irritation from the contacts? Yeah, they can go with that for now. If he dwells on the notion for too long, the feeling might start to become mutual.

It's his turn to offer a playful punch to the shoulder, even as his friend rests his hands on his own. His grin is wider, genuine.]

Just like old times. Except, you know, in space this time. We have ten years of catching up to do, so why not start with finding you some space-glasses?