[Preferring to focus the permission he didn't require, for an opportunity he's greatly appreciative of, Mettaton smile turns self-satisfied as his hand gets to work baring his lover's chest for his thorough examination. But he knows it's both that, and his face he needs the most of all. The proximity of his Witch's magic could only help, too.
It's hardly seeking permission, and more of a warning for his intent. The study and focus his body will be treated to, the kind Mettaton imagines he will be thoroughly distracted from even as he attempts to stare dead-on at his Bonded's form. Therefore, it's the the perfect kind of distraction. A distraction of lust rather than anything... unsuitable, unsavory, disturbing. The kind jarring enough to twist the outcome into something seared into his memory.
All he has now is a distorted memory of his end result. Even the thought has his thoughts deadening.
The robot soothes his own nerves, nerves nothing like the sort for stage fright or the like. It's been a gradual wearing of them, strung out and tested for their breaking point over the span of just weeks. His conviction bounces unsteadily between apprehension and total assurance in his abilities. His fingers work Emet-Selch's clothes, an easy initial response tumbling from his lips to buy time before describing the problem at hand.]
Thank you, darling. I always know I can rely on you to invest yourself in something that matters to me... [A smile, heartfelt even as his eyelids remain heavy.] I can't say for sure that I know exactly what it should feel like. Being human. But that's why it takes me this extra step. I studied it about a month ago, and then... Well. Having your body as my muse, I couldn't possibly get it wrong, at this point.
[Mettaton brings his other hand forward to assist him in making quicker work of Emet-Selch's clothes. He's sure, it can only improve. It was going so well. He was understanding better the nuance of a body, how to achieve a more convincing, lifelike form. Some of his initial attempts were good, but lacked proper elements to be better lifelike: a pulse, breathing, the proper bend to joints. He didn't see anything wrong with it... until he compared his mental notes of himself to people around him. Interesting how experience in itself enhances his own perception of others. A cycle of feedback.
Slipping his hands into Emet-Selch's clothes, one hand settles upon the Ascian's waist while the other moves to slip his clothes over his shoulder, beholding as much as proximity will allow with a once-over and a steady smile. Then, he meets his eyes again.]
There was something... I saw. Something in somebody's memories. It disrupts my thoughts sometimes, when I try to imitate a human form. When I messed up the first time, seeing my form like that... It's all I can think of, now. ... I need to get it right. That's all.
no subject
It's hardly seeking permission, and more of a warning for his intent. The study and focus his body will be treated to, the kind Mettaton imagines he will be thoroughly distracted from even as he attempts to stare dead-on at his Bonded's form. Therefore, it's the the perfect kind of distraction. A distraction of lust rather than anything... unsuitable, unsavory, disturbing. The kind jarring enough to twist the outcome into something seared into his memory.
All he has now is a distorted memory of his end result. Even the thought has his thoughts deadening.
The robot soothes his own nerves, nerves nothing like the sort for stage fright or the like. It's been a gradual wearing of them, strung out and tested for their breaking point over the span of just weeks. His conviction bounces unsteadily between apprehension and total assurance in his abilities. His fingers work Emet-Selch's clothes, an easy initial response tumbling from his lips to buy time before describing the problem at hand.]
Thank you, darling. I always know I can rely on you to invest yourself in something that matters to me... [A smile, heartfelt even as his eyelids remain heavy.] I can't say for sure that I know exactly what it should feel like. Being human. But that's why it takes me this extra step. I studied it about a month ago, and then... Well. Having your body as my muse, I couldn't possibly get it wrong, at this point.
[Mettaton brings his other hand forward to assist him in making quicker work of Emet-Selch's clothes. He's sure, it can only improve. It was going so well. He was understanding better the nuance of a body, how to achieve a more convincing, lifelike form. Some of his initial attempts were good, but lacked proper elements to be better lifelike: a pulse, breathing, the proper bend to joints. He didn't see anything wrong with it... until he compared his mental notes of himself to people around him. Interesting how experience in itself enhances his own perception of others. A cycle of feedback.
Slipping his hands into Emet-Selch's clothes, one hand settles upon the Ascian's waist while the other moves to slip his clothes over his shoulder, beholding as much as proximity will allow with a once-over and a steady smile. Then, he meets his eyes again.]
There was something... I saw. Something in somebody's memories. It disrupts my thoughts sometimes, when I try to imitate a human form. When I messed up the first time, seeing my form like that... It's all I can think of, now. ... I need to get it right. That's all.