[Aw, Vriska. After the initial instant of surprise, Prompto hugs her back, tighter and more sure than hers. He's more grateful than he really wants to say; saying would show the cracks in what's at least partly a facade of brightness, after all.

(Everyone's missed his cheerfulness. The least he can do is turn it up to eleven, after all the worry he's put them through.)

When she lets go, he stands back with a grin.]

Never.

[He pulls the door open wider and gestures floridly inside.]

My house is your house! ...Though it's not really my house. We're probably way past the safety limit for occupancy here. But come on in!