[It doesn't take long for Emet-Selch to give him a reply, a moment's worth of time, but he's taken by the watch and waiting for what Emet-Selch's thoughts are on that. His dedication should be expected, but it warms Mettaton's heart for the other man all the same. A mutual protectiveness and care, an attribute that ought to be present alongside love. He smiles.
Reaching out to Emet-Selch was the right choice, not that there was any other path he would have taken. He trusts him wholly.]
Having you to confide in... and to rely on. I feel better. Immeasurably. You know just how to ease my worries, dearest. I could kiss you.
[Onlookers watching this liberally reclining Puca and his leaning ears as he regards his device with a relieved grin and fixed attention probably think he's messaging a crush, with how totally absorbed he is by the device. They're right. Would That They Knew The Subject Matter, However.
The problem has yet to be solved. That much is true. But Emet-Selch's willingness to help Mettaton, no matter who should come into possession of his history in the future, is an immense relief in a city as precarious as Aefenglom. Who knew what sorts of spells or situations existed that might expose him? Yet with Emet-Selch to help him, he could feel secure in knowing that he'd be taken care of.
A thought strikes the robot. A curiosity he'd never addressed, surprisingly.]
You yourself very quickly admitted to me that you're an Ascian, though in description rather than in word. Do you prefer to keep that secret, here in Aefenglom? I imagine it was a necessity to keep it secret where you're from... Given the reactions I saw humans have to you.
[Twice... Well, Varis already knew, obviously. (He didn't appreciate it. Violence happened.) But there was the time he introduced himself as an Ascian, and all hackles were raised then. (They didn't appreciate it either. There was tension that could be cut with Thancred's readied blade.) Perhaps it has something to do with trying to usher in their demise...]
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Reaching out to Emet-Selch was the right choice, not that there was any other path he would have taken. He trusts him wholly.]
Having you to confide in... and to rely on. I feel better. Immeasurably. You know just how to ease my worries, dearest. I could kiss you.
[Onlookers watching this liberally reclining Puca and his leaning ears as he regards his device with a relieved grin and fixed attention probably think he's messaging a crush, with how totally absorbed he is by the device. They're right. Would That They Knew The Subject Matter, However.
The problem has yet to be solved. That much is true. But Emet-Selch's willingness to help Mettaton, no matter who should come into possession of his history in the future, is an immense relief in a city as precarious as Aefenglom. Who knew what sorts of spells or situations existed that might expose him? Yet with Emet-Selch to help him, he could feel secure in knowing that he'd be taken care of.
A thought strikes the robot. A curiosity he'd never addressed, surprisingly.]
You yourself very quickly admitted to me that you're an Ascian, though in description rather than in word. Do you prefer to keep that secret, here in Aefenglom? I imagine it was a necessity to keep it secret where you're from... Given the reactions I saw humans have to you.
[Twice... Well, Varis already knew, obviously. (He didn't appreciate it. Violence happened.) But there was the time he introduced himself as an Ascian, and all hackles were raised then. (They didn't appreciate it either. There was tension that could be cut with Thancred's readied blade.) Perhaps it has something to do with trying to usher in their demise...]