The memory opens Absinthe walking through a sunny beach-side restaurant, open air -- he doesn't really seem dressed for the weather, though, in clothing that wouldn't look too out of place on a court jester. He strolls towards four men; one short, with spiky black hair, a taller one with blonde hair, a bulkier man with black hair and a finely-groomed man with brown hair and glasses (Noctis, Prompto, Gladiolus and Ignis respectively though they're not named in this memory).
Absinthe: I'm afraid you're out of luck.
Noct: Are we?
Absinthe: The boats bring you here.
Prompto: What about 'em?
Absinthe: Well, they'll not take you forth.
The men evidently grow a bit suspicious of Absinthe; Gladio seems to check him out a bit before asking --
Gladiolus: And what's your story?
Absinthe: I'm an impatient traveler, ready to turn ship. The ceasefire's getting us nowhere.
Absinthe strolls past them as he speaks and abruptly turns, flicking a coin towards Noctis. Gladio catches it in his fist and then opens his hand to look at it.
1 - suspicious stranger
The memory opens Absinthe walking through a sunny beach-side restaurant, open air -- he doesn't really seem dressed for the weather, though, in clothing that wouldn't look too out of place on a court jester. He strolls towards four men; one short, with spiky black hair, a taller one with blonde hair, a bulkier man with black hair and a finely-groomed man with brown hair and glasses (Noctis, Prompto, Gladiolus and Ignis respectively though they're not named in this memory).
Absinthe: I'm afraid you're out of luck.
Noct: Are we?
Absinthe: The boats bring you here.
Prompto: What about 'em?
Absinthe: Well, they'll not take you forth.
The men evidently grow a bit suspicious of Absinthe; Gladio seems to check him out a bit before asking --
Gladiolus: And what's your story?
Absinthe: I'm an impatient traveler, ready to turn ship. The ceasefire's getting us nowhere.
Absinthe strolls past them as he speaks and abruptly turns, flicking a coin towards Noctis. Gladio catches it in his fist and then opens his hand to look at it.
Gladiolus: What's this? Some sort of souvenir?
Prompto: -- They make those?
Noct: What? No.
Absinthe: Consider it your allowance.
Prompto: Huh?
Gladiolus: Yeah, and who's allowing us?
Absinthe lifts his arms, backing away.
Absinthe:: A man of no consequence.
He gives a little nod before he leaves them.