[Really, he shouldn't technically be able to see this. Like, literally. This should be a blur, because currently he's not wearing any glasses, and he should be as blind as a bat.]

[And yet, everything is wonderful and crystal clear to him.]

[Mettaton is shaking with emotion, and honestly, probably for the first time in his godforsaken life, there's a part of Keats that just twinges with a hard, sharp feeling of genuine concern and worry. God, what's with him. He wants to come around to the other, to break his personal space, ensure he's okay. He's been protective before, he's felt that, but this feels far different and far more confusing.]

[Confusing in a good way, probably. He doesn't know. He's not shaking himself, but his mind is currently going a mile a minute because he knows that Mettaton must be making a huge step for him and he's absolutely terrified that there's a possibility he might mess this up.]

You're right. I don't understand that. I can try my best to, though, for you... [He says, nodding, because yes, of course, he's never been a robot. He can't grasp all that Mettaton's been through. But at least, he can attempt to just take it all in, accommodate where he must.]

You somehow like me, huh? [That's...a nice feeling. Now he's feeling his cheeks warm, the terrible traitors.]

[But enough about him, this is Mettaton's moment. Keats feels like there's some kind of weight hanging over him, nerve-wracking to acknowledge. Whatever this is, it's serious. He has no doubt that the robot will pop his head off if he even makes a misstep.]

[He gulps, but nods nevertheless, his expression determined.]

I do. [He nods again.] I wouldn't dare to go against your trust. Not in a million years. My lips are sealed.