"Fifteen years..." He repeated softly. More a murmur than anything meant to be heard by his company. His eyes fell to his feet as he mulled the thought over. It explained Ignis' aging, and the restoration of the castle. It took a moment, but his eyes did find themselves on Ignis' face as per his request, blue eyes taking in those features, the differences from what his memory held.

"You're not that old." He said humorlessly. Certainly older than he remembers, but to think of Ignis as an old man was... painful, in a way. He wondered, idly, how long it would have been for him since he died—since his sacrifice. He wouldn't ask, he couldn't. He didn't want to make his friend think about that any more than he himself had to.

"What about the others? Gladio—Prompto... are they in the castle too, or?"