Gladio had the utmost trust in Prompto. No one else in the room currently made him feel safer than the man beside him. He knew, without a doubt, that where his sword wasn't a bullet would be. He moved because of that faith, he fought because Prompto was there. For a moment... he forgot.

But he heard the cry a moment before he was turning around. Fear lanced through him, cold and angry toward whatever had made his partner cry out like that. He spun, avoiding Promoto and swung his sword with all his might and let it loose with a roar toward the bastard who had shot at Prompto. In the same movement the shield was gone and he had thrown himself toward the blonde to grab him before he hit the ground.

As he caught Prompto, he heard his sword find it's mark with the screech of tearing metal that meant that the sword had buried itself in the wall of the corridor. Belatedly he hoped that wasn't a bulkhead wall and he had accidentally killed them all by venting them out into space. But his focus was turned toward the man in his arms. One arm, anyway. The other was busy patting him down, checking him for injuries. "Are you hurt? Did he get you?" Gladio asked, voice thick with worry and fear for Prompto.