Gladio looks down at his leg, shifting his weight ever so slightly. "Just landed badly when I leaped." It's strange to talk about this with someone who isn't his father because this is the first time he's ever done so. He rubs the back of his neck, stretching out his leg a little. "I'll be fine." It's sore, and he'll be trying to hide that limp all day, but he knows it would heal pretty quickly and he wouldn't trade it for the world.

Noctis is safe, and that's important. Something in him, deep as can be, tells him that it's important. It doesn't matter so much what his father says (okay, that's a lie, it matters immensely) as much as that something. There is a connection building there that's nestling deeper into him with every passing year, the same kind of connection his father has with the King.

"...you should lay back down if your back hurts."