[How terrible Emet-Selch's being to him. He has no muscle with which to tense, but that doesn't stop Mettaton's body from the slightest stutter, the smallest groan sliding from his throat at the contact that he disguises as being a precursor to speaking. ...The robot notices his own easy state of sensitivity, and narrows his eye at the wall for his reaction. He enjoys the feeling, sure, but to be so easily impacted...
Developing sensation, even if it's not as fine-tuned as an organic being's might be, means finding most everything worth fixation. Things Emet-Selch does is of particular interest to him. Mettaton's inclined both toward gestures of intimacy and that which overwhelms him.]
Being wanted to death. What a way to go... The ways I could spin that story. If an extra Bond would kill you, which it won't.
[Mettaton, perhaps one of the very few people who would unironically agree that a mundane end is something worth avoiding by virtue of it being insignificant or unworthy.
Enjoying the way that Emet-Selch responds to his touch, endearing to it even, it takes him slightly off-guard that he'd ask about his Bonds. Mettaton is great at talking about himself, and he could talk about himself for hours in relation to his company, his desirability, his achievements and his dreams, but sharing details about his lived experiences isn't something he does as often. Not that he can blame this line of curiosity. He expected it at some point.]
Yes... I do have plenty of prospects. [None have expressly asked, none he's asked in return, but he knows of plenty Witches and Monsters who are available, of who he imagines would be delighted at the opportunity to Bond with him.] They're all lovely people. But... What can I say? I'm choosy.
[Choosy enough to have gone months without a Bond, apparently. To his dizzying paranoia and long nights in the company of strangers, the crawl of time difficult to keep track of. All so he could continue to spend his days pretending nothing was wrong, from that to his void his magic left behind in his soul. He wouldn't recommend not having a Bond.]
no subject
Developing sensation, even if it's not as fine-tuned as an organic being's might be, means finding most everything worth fixation. Things Emet-Selch does is of particular interest to him. Mettaton's inclined both toward gestures of intimacy and that which overwhelms him.]
Being wanted to death. What a way to go... The ways I could spin that story. If an extra Bond would kill you, which it won't.
[Mettaton, perhaps one of the very few people who would unironically agree that a mundane end is something worth avoiding by virtue of it being insignificant or unworthy.
Enjoying the way that Emet-Selch responds to his touch, endearing to it even, it takes him slightly off-guard that he'd ask about his Bonds. Mettaton is great at talking about himself, and he could talk about himself for hours in relation to his company, his desirability, his achievements and his dreams, but sharing details about his lived experiences isn't something he does as often. Not that he can blame this line of curiosity. He expected it at some point.]
Yes... I do have plenty of prospects. [None have expressly asked, none he's asked in return, but he knows of plenty Witches and Monsters who are available, of who he imagines would be delighted at the opportunity to Bond with him.] They're all lovely people. But... What can I say? I'm choosy.
[Choosy enough to have gone months without a Bond, apparently. To his dizzying paranoia and long nights in the company of strangers, the crawl of time difficult to keep track of. All so he could continue to spend his days pretending nothing was wrong, from that to his void his magic left behind in his soul. He wouldn't recommend not having a Bond.]