It has been more years than he cares to admit since he was able to just casually touch someone. Not frantically addressing wounds, not desperate hugs to assure himself that friends were still whole and alive, not adrenaline fueled romps scattered between months of loneliness. Just... touching because he could, because they were close, they were friends and he didn't need an excuse to be physical with someone.

Especially with Ignis. So many years since the other man had been comfortable like this and the last thing Gladio wanted was to let him pull away. Unless Ignis made a move to escape he was perfectly content with having the warmth of his friend pressed against him once more. It felt like finally coming home after too many years away, even more so than it had when they'd stepped into Insomnia once more.

The question surprises him and he huffs out a breath, not quite an answering question of his own but a sound of curiosity. He hums as he thinks, leaning forward a touch to rest his chin lightly on Ignis' head.

"Meeting Coco." He finally says, nodding and removing the weight of his head from Ignis'. "Wiz got run out... hell, nearly 8 years ago. I doubt there's anything, even the most stubborn of birds, that could've survived." Gladio pauses, bites his lip, offers Iggy a half shrug that he can feel. "Pretty sure there aren't any left back home, I mean."

He'll never be able to tell Prompto that.