Welcome to the ship of "nothing makes a lick of godsdamned sense". Population: a lot. Because damn, this place sure is crowded.

"I'm talking about--" Noctis stops. He notices that -- notices how it doesn't quite register what that means. And that really doesn't sit right with him. At all. Yet despite it, or maybe because of it, he pulls out of Gladio's grasp. Standing up straight, determined despite the confusion that is apparent in his eyes. They need to get on some sort of common ground. Before Gladio snaps.

"What's the last thing you remember?"