Lightheaded with fear and the shallowness of his breaths, Prompto flinched when Ardyn swiped a hand across the cut, dragging the blood across his quivering chest. He had to struggle to focus on what Ardyn was saying, past the thundering of his own wild pulse.

"Wh-what...?"

Prompto stared at the smear of red on Ardyn's fingers. The word came out nearly soundless, mostly breath, frightened and confused. Maybe if he could keep Ardyn talking, he'd stop using the knife. But probably not.