[All of these admissions and lack of reiteration suggests indeed Emet-Selch's true feelings. He worried. It wasn't a severe worry, if he'd been... re-growing his body, which should suggest that he was unconscious for some healing-related purpose. Mettaton bites at his lip, still regretting the pain Emet-Selch had to endure, while appreciating terribly the result.
More than the regret, he felt the gratitude. It was unfortunate that he had to pass out, but he was well; he felt wonderful. He flexes the fingers of his once-missing hand.
Reading Emet-Selch's messages, though, Mettaton can't help but coyly reply at first:] I know what your healing needs. 💗💗💗 More of ME! 💗💗💗
[Apply Mettaton and feel healed. Mettaton knows this would be true; he also knows that Emet-Selch was advancing toward him, and he wiggles in place with the anticipation of it. He'd move to meet him part-way, but he decides against it, given that he ultimately wants them to unite right here. So his restless energy is heavied into the bed again, where he wriggles.]
You wouldn't forget many things without force involved, and don't lie to me. You don't care to forget my creeping recovery. Let visions of me continue to cloud that impeccable memory of yours. [Because aside from awful happenstance, yes, Emet-Selch's memory was impeccable and he means it. This is not to rub anything in. He remembered well, and it required intervention to make him forget, much to his dismay.
Mettaton sighs, reaching back to fluff up some pillows, to scoot to the side, making some more room for Emet-Selch to land. Fondly, he regards the spot.]
It's a personal message, all right. And one that I NEED to tell you. Oh, I can't keep still, I need to tell you so bad...!
[Is that enough of a warning? Mettaton knows Emet-Selch will not really slow. He was on his way, that, he was sure of.]
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More than the regret, he felt the gratitude. It was unfortunate that he had to pass out, but he was well; he felt wonderful. He flexes the fingers of his once-missing hand.
Reading Emet-Selch's messages, though, Mettaton can't help but coyly reply at first:] I know what your healing needs. 💗💗💗 More of ME! 💗💗💗
[Apply Mettaton and feel healed. Mettaton knows this would be true; he also knows that Emet-Selch was advancing toward him, and he wiggles in place with the anticipation of it. He'd move to meet him part-way, but he decides against it, given that he ultimately wants them to unite right here. So his restless energy is heavied into the bed again, where he wriggles.]
You wouldn't forget many things without force involved, and don't lie to me. You don't care to forget my creeping recovery. Let visions of me continue to cloud that impeccable memory of yours. [Because aside from awful happenstance, yes, Emet-Selch's memory was impeccable and he means it. This is not to rub anything in. He remembered well, and it required intervention to make him forget, much to his dismay.
Mettaton sighs, reaching back to fluff up some pillows, to scoot to the side, making some more room for Emet-Selch to land. Fondly, he regards the spot.]
It's a personal message, all right. And one that I NEED to tell you. Oh, I can't keep still, I need to tell you so bad...!
[Is that enough of a warning? Mettaton knows Emet-Selch will not really slow. He was on his way, that, he was sure of.]