[He'd bristle at it being called 'ramblings'. The pain is very real, and the despair? Just as real.]

Oh, go fuck yourself, Gladio. [He mutters under his breath, the words coming out slow and unnatural but vehement. Ignis slides his glass from one hand to the other, carefully, tentatively, every motion he makes needing to be thought out and balanced.

There's too much weighing on him now for those kinds of words to rouse anything.]

You can see what's happened to me. I can't be expected to be of any use now. [What happened with the malboro? A fluke. He's not sure he could repeat it if he tried.]

I told him we should stop. I asked him-- He didn't want to. [Ignis stifles a short, humourless laugh.] And now, what do I have left? I have you, telling a blind man he should get up and fight. Six, do you even hear yourself...