[Emet-Selch's sudden pulling away from him alarms Mettaton, not having anticipated that response, obviously. His ears bolt upright, and he feels Emet-Selch's chill. He does nothing to his own end.
Favored human? Mettaton regards him incredulously. That he'd assume he got the adequate information on the events from just her simply because she's human... Even when he first met the two and viewed them fancifully as a romantic prospect, he wanted to figure out Emet-Selch's end of things. Her side isn't near enough. He feels hurt that Emet-Selch would think he has nothing to add, as though he's no part of it. That no part affected him.
And Mettaton's emotional state is in no good way aid him in arguing the point, even as he crosses his arms at first. It just swings, wounded and displeased and shocked and still ever curious, as he stares at his back.]
Well. What I hoped for... Was an account added by my favored person. You clearly find it biased, after all. That's hers, not yours.
[That chill doesn't sit well with him, however. That anger doesn't, either. But perhaps he needs more time.
So the problem was with some kind of presumption. Thinking they understood something about him that they so sorely lacked, maybe? Mettaton sighs. He can't quite piece together the nature of their conflict, but he's patient.
He doesn't walk away from Emet-Selch but instead drifts over to sit on the edge of his bed, where he collapses onto his back, ears askew as the product of his fall, gaze fixed on the ceiling. He closes his eye, that wrathful sensation of his Bonded's slotting into him familiarly compared to some other times they've talked. Though, the last he can recall him getting this upset was earlier on in their Bond, prior to a deeper connection. And so Mettaton manages to talk his whirlwind of surprise-hurt-worry into something less stormy, simmering down into disappointment (that he can't just get to know) and concern (over his Bonded's feelings).
He has quite a temper. More dimensions of feeling he rarely experiences for himself, and he almost regards it with awe, even if he wishes he could soothe. He can only imagine how his soul would feel. He imagines something similar to the time he spoke of Hydaelyn, perhaps.]
You're left with lingering fury over the matter.
[Stating his feelings aloud for him, to let him know what he feels and sees on his end. For now, Mettaton brushes aside the past.]
Well! It is done, yes. And I suppose I have no need to keep hunting down a way to keep more than three Bonds, do I? ...If you ever wish to talk about it, what better purpose for having grown these impressive ears?
[A brief pause, indicative of changing gears.]
Ah. Practical concerns to accompany this manner of fallout. Are you safe here, darling? Will you remain? Anything I can help you with?
[It's kind of a tricky matter, he imagines, being shacked up with people who have killed you once before. He could never experience the same thing for himself, but he tries to place himself in the shoes of what that might feel like. No matter how pleasant he finds Mira and Irhya, that fact remains. It can't sit well with Emet-Selch.]
no subject
Favored human? Mettaton regards him incredulously. That he'd assume he got the adequate information on the events from just her simply because she's human... Even when he first met the two and viewed them fancifully as a romantic prospect, he wanted to figure out Emet-Selch's end of things. Her side isn't near enough. He feels hurt that Emet-Selch would think he has nothing to add, as though he's no part of it. That no part affected him.
And Mettaton's emotional state is in no good way aid him in arguing the point, even as he crosses his arms at first. It just swings, wounded and displeased and shocked and still ever curious, as he stares at his back.]
Well. What I hoped for... Was an account added by my favored person. You clearly find it biased, after all. That's hers, not yours.
[That chill doesn't sit well with him, however. That anger doesn't, either. But perhaps he needs more time.
So the problem was with some kind of presumption. Thinking they understood something about him that they so sorely lacked, maybe? Mettaton sighs. He can't quite piece together the nature of their conflict, but he's patient.
He doesn't walk away from Emet-Selch but instead drifts over to sit on the edge of his bed, where he collapses onto his back, ears askew as the product of his fall, gaze fixed on the ceiling. He closes his eye, that wrathful sensation of his Bonded's slotting into him familiarly compared to some other times they've talked. Though, the last he can recall him getting this upset was earlier on in their Bond, prior to a deeper connection. And so Mettaton manages to talk his whirlwind of surprise-hurt-worry into something less stormy, simmering down into disappointment (that he can't just get to know) and concern (over his Bonded's feelings).
He has quite a temper. More dimensions of feeling he rarely experiences for himself, and he almost regards it with awe, even if he wishes he could soothe. He can only imagine how his soul would feel. He imagines something similar to the time he spoke of Hydaelyn, perhaps.]
You're left with lingering fury over the matter.
[Stating his feelings aloud for him, to let him know what he feels and sees on his end. For now, Mettaton brushes aside the past.]
Well! It is done, yes. And I suppose I have no need to keep hunting down a way to keep more than three Bonds, do I? ...If you ever wish to talk about it, what better purpose for having grown these impressive ears?
[A brief pause, indicative of changing gears.]
Ah. Practical concerns to accompany this manner of fallout. Are you safe here, darling? Will you remain? Anything I can help you with?
[It's kind of a tricky matter, he imagines, being shacked up with people who have killed you once before. He could never experience the same thing for himself, but he tries to place himself in the shoes of what that might feel like. No matter how pleasant he finds Mira and Irhya, that fact remains. It can't sit well with Emet-Selch.]