[He could hear them for sure, footsteps that weren't his own, but Ignis couldn't quite trace whether they were behind or in front. And regardless, it'd be too hasty to assume he was being followed. Perhaps they were coincidentally enough heading in the right direction, and Ignis can only hope he hasn't been in the way.
An assumption soon squashed as a hand settles on his shoulder. Behind him, they'd been behind him the whole time, and Ignis stops. The voice lacks familiarity. As does... whatever he's even talking about.]
no subject
An assumption soon squashed as a hand settles on his shoulder. Behind him, they'd been behind him the whole time, and Ignis stops. The voice lacks familiarity. As does... whatever he's even talking about.]
Beg pardon?