[Mettaton could dress and own whatever he liked; for all that it was wasteful in a sense, Emet-Selch could appreciate his Bonded's consistency, the ability to know what he wanted, and do as he liked. It was the sort of confidence he could approve of, even if the result was unnecessary fashions and collectables.
And it's likely that he did notice that odd stain on the rug; a flaw in an otherwise tidy (if full of Things) room. Though blood wouldn't have been the first thing to come to Emet-Selch's mind anyway; Mettaton didn't bleed, so how would it be that? A careless drink residue, or some sort of dye- and for that matter, there's no reason to think that the idol even had to be the cause for whatever it was. This house had been lived in before, it was just as likely for it have to originated from a previous owner.
There were any number of viable explanations for something that his eyes note and pass over; 'my robot lover is bleeding somehow' is not one that actually occurs to him. Any alarm and/or concern will be delayed until he knows better.
Especially when he finds himself touched- an expected, anticipated, inevitable event. Though his gaze flickers down to the path of his hand, it otherwise stays on Mettaton's face, and he shifts slightly closer without thinking. Without needing to think, only drawn to him, as was natural. Mettaton's phrasing doesn't escape him; was he another object to be collected, then? The idea doesn't offend: of course he was worthy of possession, that went without question.]
Oh...? Though if you intend to display me here, I fear I don't match your current aesthetic.
[His darker clothes, at least, stood out against the glitter of the room. Or perhaps contrast itself was an appeal, he thought, reaching a hand up to let fingers glide along the side of Mettaton's neck, up and across his jawline, to touch his face. Light but deliberate, he focuses in on the sensation under his fingertips, a most delicate sort of claim. Feeling oddly possessive in turn, for being in a room filled with things that were very clearly Mettaton's (including himself). And, very distantly, a slight relaxation from being somewhere that wasn't a source of discomfort and omnipresent tension.]
no subject
And it's likely that he did notice that odd stain on the rug; a flaw in an otherwise tidy (if full of Things) room. Though blood wouldn't have been the first thing to come to Emet-Selch's mind anyway; Mettaton didn't bleed, so how would it be that? A careless drink residue, or some sort of dye- and for that matter, there's no reason to think that the idol even had to be the cause for whatever it was. This house had been lived in before, it was just as likely for it have to originated from a previous owner.
There were any number of viable explanations for something that his eyes note and pass over; 'my robot lover is bleeding somehow' is not one that actually occurs to him. Any alarm and/or concern will be delayed until he knows better.
Especially when he finds himself touched- an expected, anticipated, inevitable event. Though his gaze flickers down to the path of his hand, it otherwise stays on Mettaton's face, and he shifts slightly closer without thinking. Without needing to think, only drawn to him, as was natural. Mettaton's phrasing doesn't escape him; was he another object to be collected, then? The idea doesn't offend: of course he was worthy of possession, that went without question.]
Oh...? Though if you intend to display me here, I fear I don't match your current aesthetic.
[His darker clothes, at least, stood out against the glitter of the room. Or perhaps contrast itself was an appeal, he thought, reaching a hand up to let fingers glide along the side of Mettaton's neck, up and across his jawline, to touch his face. Light but deliberate, he focuses in on the sensation under his fingertips, a most delicate sort of claim. Feeling oddly possessive in turn, for being in a room filled with things that were very clearly Mettaton's (including himself). And, very distantly, a slight relaxation from being somewhere that wasn't a source of discomfort and omnipresent tension.]