[The sigh carried on his voice and that final admission causes Mettaton to feel light, imagining a slow simmer of fondness, a long time spent growing closer to somebody with an easiness that comes with the comfort of time. He's definitely decided it was romance, even if it was only the suggestion of it.
What it must have been like, to live among a people who would last forever. Honestly, the thought seems too calm for Mettaton's taste for excitement and novelty, but it has its sweetness. He nuzzles back, too aware of Emet-Selch's actions and finding them all the more endearing with each passing second, each piece of information he learns of him.
Mettaton has never felt this way about somebody before.]
Lurid affair... Oooh. You caught me, and my sensuous leanings. I have an eye for it. Hahaha...
[He hasn't felt this way, and he never imagined it being like this. How odd, that he was such a romantic but scarcely saw himself in the heat of it. All of it was relegated to fantasy, until he found his best friend in love, until he came to Aefenglom found yet more of it. Now...
Hm. Mira's in love with this man. This doesn't cause Mettaton a single moment's pause — he adapts so quickly to culture that Aefenglom's seems to encourage multiple partners, with its Bonding system that could be familial or friendly, but with a romantic slant. Besides, he views himself on a completely different level from all others. If he wants a piece of Emet-Selch, he has it, and he can give a special part of himself back. He could have as much as he'd like. Either way, he can't control how he feels, and he feels very strongly about this. He doesn't care to analyze this too hard, either way. He's content, wants more, has reached a point where he wouldn't give this up.
He communicates by Bond, this possessiveness, drawing him ever closer, firmer. He communicates it when he rubs his leg against the other man's, slowly, as he tightens his grip around him.]
It's not as though you're the only one who benefits, darling. From such a thoughtful arrangement. [That's the playful precursor to a genuine feeling, and Mettaton presses his face closer to his, his voice soft, airy even — the most equivalent of being on a sigh without it, because he's not even thinking of performative sighs, surprisingly.] I, for one... thoroughly enjoy your company. Your tempered surface belies such tumultuous depths... Yes. You draw me in. ...They must have found you fun to talk to, and insightful at that.
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What it must have been like, to live among a people who would last forever. Honestly, the thought seems too calm for Mettaton's taste for excitement and novelty, but it has its sweetness. He nuzzles back, too aware of Emet-Selch's actions and finding them all the more endearing with each passing second, each piece of information he learns of him.
Mettaton has never felt this way about somebody before.]
Lurid affair... Oooh. You caught me, and my sensuous leanings. I have an eye for it. Hahaha...
[He hasn't felt this way, and he never imagined it being like this. How odd, that he was such a romantic but scarcely saw himself in the heat of it. All of it was relegated to fantasy, until he found his best friend in love, until he came to Aefenglom found yet more of it. Now...
Hm. Mira's in love with this man. This doesn't cause Mettaton a single moment's pause — he adapts so quickly to culture that Aefenglom's seems to encourage multiple partners, with its Bonding system that could be familial or friendly, but with a romantic slant. Besides, he views himself on a completely different level from all others. If he wants a piece of Emet-Selch, he has it, and he can give a special part of himself back. He could have as much as he'd like. Either way, he can't control how he feels, and he feels very strongly about this. He doesn't care to analyze this too hard, either way. He's content, wants more, has reached a point where he wouldn't give this up.
He communicates by Bond, this possessiveness, drawing him ever closer, firmer. He communicates it when he rubs his leg against the other man's, slowly, as he tightens his grip around him.]
It's not as though you're the only one who benefits, darling. From such a thoughtful arrangement. [That's the playful precursor to a genuine feeling, and Mettaton presses his face closer to his, his voice soft, airy even — the most equivalent of being on a sigh without it, because he's not even thinking of performative sighs, surprisingly.] I, for one... thoroughly enjoy your company. Your tempered surface belies such tumultuous depths... Yes. You draw me in. ...They must have found you fun to talk to, and insightful at that.