[it doesn't take much to pry prompto open, so to speak.]

They are machines.

[he clears up that much, at least, leaning back and staring at the picture from a distance for a moment. they're the axeman type of MTs, the fast ones that run at them and slash their axes in wide angles.]

I told you about the scientist who cloned himself, from who I was cloned from. [he's jogging his knee, annoyingly, the movement going through the chair.] He basically harvested human clones to use together with the starscourge to be able to power the armors. [a shrug, his foot-shaking stopping momentarily.] I read some reports about it.

[suddenly, a lot feels like spilling. prompto presents his wrist, without the usual clutter of accessories, his black tattoo stark in contrast to his pale skin, mottled with scattered freckles.]

This is my production code. I never knew what the numbers meant until recently, so that's one mystery out of the way!

[keeping it cool and collected]