[It was more concern than anyone else would spare. That Mettaton didn't even see it as remarkable- Emet-Selch considered that this was probably part of why he'd come around to caring about him so much. Sure, sentiment didn't accomplish anything. Neither did anything else, and while it wasn't much comfort- at the moment, the Ascian would take whatever kindness the idol deemed basic. To not write off his people entirely because they happened to be dead and in the past.
Emet-Selch continues to settle. And was certainly amenable to being held closer, at being handled so casually, sparing an approving sort of hum in response, a barely audible murmur in his throat. No amount of closeness ever felt sufficient, but all that they had was still remarkably reassuring.
And the shift in topic is fine with Emet-Selch, and despite the annoyance in his tone, it doesn't seem deeply felt. A casual irritation that could stretch across time and space, and he sighs against Mettaton's face, shaking his head very slightly.]
Obnoxious is far more accurate. Honestly, you would think that on a wholly different star, I would manage to escape being set upon by your type....
[Long-suffering, even as he nestles back, without even the slightest inclination of interest in pulling away.]
But yes, they were both amiable, as you insufficiently put it. One of them in particular. Hythlodaeus. A deeply frustrating man, who knew not the value of quiet, nor in leaving me to my thoughts. Friendly, [As though that's a flaw.] teasing, completely undaunted by any response I threw at him. Irredeemably smug. Really, the only reason we were friends was because he gave me little choice in the matter.
[Though Hythlodaeus was entirely different from Mettaton otherwise, Emet-Selch could grudgingly recognize a certain familiarity in dynamic. ...Gods, he hoped this didn't mean he had A Type. What a cruel fate, if so, to be attached to such... extroverts.]
The other....
['Drawn fatally to'... that sure was a phrase.]
They weren't quite so terrible. More stubborn than smug, we tended to disagree on most things... but we could always see the other's point. [Until they couldn't.] Tiresomely optimistic, but they had a way of convincing you to their nonsense if you weren't careful. ...They had a very distinct soul.
[It's a more subdued description, melancholy over irritation.]
no subject
Emet-Selch continues to settle. And was certainly amenable to being held closer, at being handled so casually, sparing an approving sort of hum in response, a barely audible murmur in his throat. No amount of closeness ever felt sufficient, but all that they had was still remarkably reassuring.
And the shift in topic is fine with Emet-Selch, and despite the annoyance in his tone, it doesn't seem deeply felt. A casual irritation that could stretch across time and space, and he sighs against Mettaton's face, shaking his head very slightly.]
Obnoxious is far more accurate. Honestly, you would think that on a wholly different star, I would manage to escape being set upon by your type....
[Long-suffering, even as he nestles back, without even the slightest inclination of interest in pulling away.]
But yes, they were both amiable, as you insufficiently put it. One of them in particular. Hythlodaeus. A deeply frustrating man, who knew not the value of quiet, nor in leaving me to my thoughts. Friendly, [As though that's a flaw.] teasing, completely undaunted by any response I threw at him. Irredeemably smug. Really, the only reason we were friends was because he gave me little choice in the matter.
[Though Hythlodaeus was entirely different from Mettaton otherwise, Emet-Selch could grudgingly recognize a certain familiarity in dynamic. ...Gods, he hoped this didn't mean he had A Type. What a cruel fate, if so, to be attached to such... extroverts.]
The other....
['Drawn fatally to'... that sure was a phrase.]
They weren't quite so terrible. More stubborn than smug, we tended to disagree on most things... but we could always see the other's point. [Until they couldn't.] Tiresomely optimistic, but they had a way of convincing you to their nonsense if you weren't careful. ...They had a very distinct soul.
[It's a more subdued description, melancholy over irritation.]