[Whatever the origin, love was evident between them, whether it was delivered through fond looks or more dubious ones. It was all affectionate, devoted. Emet-Selch sighs a comment with a small shake of his head.]
I'm used to your crushing. Your egg, however, is not.
[Though it seemed sturdy enough from his minor examination of it, that it probably wouldn't shatter if dropped. Even so, Mettaton was a heavy robot with reduced sensitivity besides... but it seemed fine for the moment, with the taller man curling around their incubating pet, and otherwise pressing himself firmly against the Ascian's body. Not crushing yet, but with a solidity he did enjoy, and something he latches onto, encouraging this way of being handled, scooped close. Making the best use they could of this insufficient couch (most couches they'd owned had been insufficient).
And while he doesn't question verbally this 'two weeks to a month' concept, Emet-Selch does raise an eyebrow at it, considering that Mettaton had just said that no one had told him. A number pulled out of nowhere (he doesn't even consider snail knowledge as the origin for this number, as what did snails have to do with dragons).
But he shrugs again as Mettaton waves it off; it didn't really matter, at this stage, whether it was a week or a year... though if it grew to take too long, he'd be inclined to toss the egg out as defective (another small threat towards the developing lizard, a warning not to languish within shell-secured comforts). If there was information to be gained somewhere, it could be gained at some other time.
Humming a quiet affirmation (though the inclination struck to argue, or to complain over the trouble all this Mettaton-company would be, that he'd never get a break or know peace again), he wraps his own arms around him as much as he could. A return of that embrace, and if Mettaton occasionally knocked into scaly shell, it was something the egg would have to learn to get used to. If it wanted to share in their cuddles, this would be the least of what it would have to endure. And when Mettaton speaks again, that line of reply takes priority anyway.]
The Crystal isn't like to answer anyone's questions- and rarely, anyone's prayers. [Where Mettaton sobers, Emet-Selch glances aside; what was their future here? Their prior worlds together held the same question, and with no good answer being any more forthcoming.
There was only the more short-term future, an improvement of their conditions.] And now, we have an egg to look after to distract us.
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I'm used to your crushing. Your egg, however, is not.
[Though it seemed sturdy enough from his minor examination of it, that it probably wouldn't shatter if dropped. Even so, Mettaton was a heavy robot with reduced sensitivity besides... but it seemed fine for the moment, with the taller man curling around their incubating pet, and otherwise pressing himself firmly against the Ascian's body. Not crushing yet, but with a solidity he did enjoy, and something he latches onto, encouraging this way of being handled, scooped close. Making the best use they could of this insufficient couch (most couches they'd owned had been insufficient).
And while he doesn't question verbally this 'two weeks to a month' concept, Emet-Selch does raise an eyebrow at it, considering that Mettaton had just said that no one had told him. A number pulled out of nowhere (he doesn't even consider snail knowledge as the origin for this number, as what did snails have to do with dragons).
But he shrugs again as Mettaton waves it off; it didn't really matter, at this stage, whether it was a week or a year... though if it grew to take too long, he'd be inclined to toss the egg out as defective (another small threat towards the developing lizard, a warning not to languish within shell-secured comforts). If there was information to be gained somewhere, it could be gained at some other time.
Humming a quiet affirmation (though the inclination struck to argue, or to complain over the trouble all this Mettaton-company would be, that he'd never get a break or know peace again), he wraps his own arms around him as much as he could. A return of that embrace, and if Mettaton occasionally knocked into scaly shell, it was something the egg would have to learn to get used to. If it wanted to share in their cuddles, this would be the least of what it would have to endure. And when Mettaton speaks again, that line of reply takes priority anyway.]
The Crystal isn't like to answer anyone's questions- and rarely, anyone's prayers. [Where Mettaton sobers, Emet-Selch glances aside; what was their future here? Their prior worlds together held the same question, and with no good answer being any more forthcoming.
There was only the more short-term future, an improvement of their conditions.] And now, we have an egg to look after to distract us.