He supposes that is one way to clean Prompto. Not necessarily the way he would have chosen, but he won't be picky here.
"What generous hosts, offering to help clean my boyfriend up," Ignis comments mildly as he snatches a towel from the air as well - although it drops much lighter than the basin. He can say that much quite easily. "Would you ladies like to stay a while longer and eat some of the things I prepared ahead of time with us? I wasn't sure if it would fit the grand feast you have all prepared, but a clean-up snack while I work is hopefully acceptable."
One of the pixies flutters down to perch on his knee, holding herself tall. "Well, if you insist, it would be rude to do otherwise!" she announces before fluttering back up to the rest of her kin. More of them have various flowers of all sorts, it seems, and a couple are sent down in various ways. A few are sent spinning like beyblades right for Prompto's head, while others are idly tossed down, before the whole giant batch gets dumped down.
Considering the alternative, Ignis will accept it.
Brushing some flowers away from his knees and off the towel, Ignis looks over to where Prompto is. "Come here, Prompto. Sit in front of me, and I'll dry your hair off." And while he's waiting for Prompto for that, Ignis reaches into the cloak he'd gotten for excursions (and to ward off the cold, which he feels he's getting particularly susceptible to). It's just a simple bit of paper to keep everything wrapped in it, but it's done good enough.
If Prompto wants to have some of the butterfly-shaped potato chips which fill the little container, he'll have to be quick. The pixies are already starting to descend upon their starchy feast.
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"What generous hosts, offering to help clean my boyfriend up," Ignis comments mildly as he snatches a towel from the air as well - although it drops much lighter than the basin. He can say that much quite easily. "Would you ladies like to stay a while longer and eat some of the things I prepared ahead of time with us? I wasn't sure if it would fit the grand feast you have all prepared, but a clean-up snack while I work is hopefully acceptable."
One of the pixies flutters down to perch on his knee, holding herself tall. "Well, if you insist, it would be rude to do otherwise!" she announces before fluttering back up to the rest of her kin. More of them have various flowers of all sorts, it seems, and a couple are sent down in various ways. A few are sent spinning like beyblades right for Prompto's head, while others are idly tossed down, before the whole giant batch gets dumped down.
Considering the alternative, Ignis will accept it.
Brushing some flowers away from his knees and off the towel, Ignis looks over to where Prompto is. "Come here, Prompto. Sit in front of me, and I'll dry your hair off." And while he's waiting for Prompto for that, Ignis reaches into the cloak he'd gotten for excursions (and to ward off the cold, which he feels he's getting particularly susceptible to). It's just a simple bit of paper to keep everything wrapped in it, but it's done good enough.
If Prompto wants to have some of the butterfly-shaped potato chips which fill the little container, he'll have to be quick. The pixies are already starting to descend upon their starchy feast.