[Okay, now he knows Keats is gone. This is some sweet, self-aware replacement that actually manages to show a shred of decency.
Mettaton leans in further, as if he still had lips. His screen doesn't touch the man, but a brief spark leaves it, light and gentle, to strike Keats' cheek.
It's what he has in this form, okay?
He rolls himself back to his chair. Somehow, the consideration makes him feel safe enough to answer. How pathetic, huh?]
TRUTH BE TOLD? ...NO. I DIDN'T HAVE A LOT OF VIEWERS. I WORKED EVERY HOUR OF EVERY DAY, BUT. WELL, NOT EVERYONE APPRECIATES THAT.
[If he had a head, he'd be tilting it. Blooky cared. Those callers cared. Papyrus cared...]
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[Okay, now he knows Keats is gone. This is some sweet, self-aware replacement that actually manages to show a shred of decency.
Mettaton leans in further, as if he still had lips. His screen doesn't touch the man, but a brief spark leaves it, light and gentle, to strike Keats' cheek.
It's what he has in this form, okay?
He rolls himself back to his chair. Somehow, the consideration makes him feel safe enough to answer. How pathetic, huh?]
TRUTH BE TOLD? ...NO. I DIDN'T HAVE A LOT OF VIEWERS. I WORKED EVERY HOUR OF EVERY DAY, BUT. WELL, NOT EVERYONE APPRECIATES THAT.
[If he had a head, he'd be tilting it. Blooky cared. Those callers cared. Papyrus cared...]
SOME DID.
[Another shrug.]
EVENTUALLY, YOU LEARN THAT THAT'S ENOUGH.