[If there's a sense of sadistic victory at watching the other man flinch over his words, it doesn't stick with Mettaton long. It sticks in the first place, though. There's a righteousness about being right, about calling a twist far before the movie ends. He knows that name is a weak-spot. He knows there's denial and pain laced into that name, into the magic, into this transformation, for one reason or another. It feels good to not be the one feeling bad.
...for a moment. Keats' hands are shaking, like he has to keep himself from smashing Mettaton flat. Is that what that is? Is it rage? Betrayal? Are there just too many emotions flowing through his system? Mettaton wouldn't know. His own body doesn't act like that.
...
His own hands find his arms, pulling himself into a spiteful, halfhearted embrace.]
Maybe I am. [Keats isn't going to explain. Mettaton doesn't see why he'd have to.]
no subject
...for a moment. Keats' hands are shaking, like he has to keep himself from smashing Mettaton flat. Is that what that is? Is it rage? Betrayal? Are there just too many emotions flowing through his system? Mettaton wouldn't know. His own body doesn't act like that.
...
His own hands find his arms, pulling himself into a spiteful, halfhearted embrace.]
Maybe I am. [Keats isn't going to explain. Mettaton doesn't see why he'd have to.]
Are we happy now?