[A dim screen was the best way he could convey it, and he knew Emet-Selch would read into it, that the robot was at least blocking out visual input in favor of tactile. Because there's plenty to focus on... and as Emet-Selch maps out the front plane of his body, Mettaton nearly leans, his free hand hovering close to his own face in a tight fist that grows only tighter with anticipation. His other, of course, is occupied with Emet-Selch, and no longer the couch.
The comment on the furniture gets a chuckle from Mettaton, no matter how rhetorical.]
Oh, god no. All of it's getting the boot at the earliest opportunity!
[But they can't just go without furniture for either of them to lounge on... Even if none of it was worth their touch. It's because they had other priorities with their shards, and had to live frugally because of it, that it was even still here at all. Couch included, though Mettaton grows a clearer understanding of what a good couch should feature. Tawdry would not be in their future, even if the couch were ostentatious. Guaranteed to be that, at least, but definitely something worth lounging upon.
Furniture is barely in his periphery right now, though. Especially as he makes contact with the Ascian's face, and he leans right into it. With a gasp, the robot's fingers curl slightly, enhancing his grip, before reaching for his other cheek with his other hand.
He was... warm, Mettaton knew. Emet-Selch's face was soft and warm, the structure of bone beneath skin at his cheeks; but god he was warm, and that was a sensation that nearly distracts him from processing anything else Emet-Selch was describing. Display the brightest possible yellow it can be, Mettaton becomes acutely aware of something as soon as he feels the soothing warmth of skin. The feeling he felt... the air. It was slightly cooler than his own body, and he could feel that much so severely that it felt like winter's chill, only... not. He knew winter's chill. He knew this was nothing like it- but it felt so stark and so impossible against his metal body that he gasps again to notice it.
And to register what Emet-Selch's saying- the Crystal. Emet-Selch had been at the Crystal, and the robot almost... envisions the path he took to return home from its violet side. Nearly like a memory... but perhaps it was just one of his own. Only the Overseer knows how often Mettaton himself has charted that path himself. It all becomes clear, though.
Cupping Emet-Selch's face, Mettaton strokes him with his thumb as well.]
Hades...! You're so warm! You're warm, and soft!! [He knew these sensations. He knew them from wearing a human's body; he could feel so starkly the texture of his skin, and feel the warmth from his blood.] You asked...
[This wasn't the dragon's work. Emet-Selch had wished for Mettaton's ability to feel. The robot doesn't register it as a desire to make up for inadequacy, even though this was something that caused the couple much grief. After all, he did want this... and to be provided it again, more sharply than ever, was nothing short of a kindness. Without thinking, the idol unhands Emet-Selch, and pounces on him to draw him into a tight embrace. Pulling him flush to his screen, Mettaton trembles at the feeling of him, his robes, his solid figure so soft, against himself- and is overwhelmed all over again.]
You asked for my ability to touch, and feel... Ohhh, you're so...
[With his body pulled against him, Mettaton finds himsef taking handfuls of hs body wherever he could. He was so remarkably warm- and when his fingertips rub into his upper back, then down to his waist, then round to his arms, he realizes all over again the vivid world of texture, when warmed with heat.]
no subject
The comment on the furniture gets a chuckle from Mettaton, no matter how rhetorical.]
Oh, god no. All of it's getting the boot at the earliest opportunity!
[But they can't just go without furniture for either of them to lounge on... Even if none of it was worth their touch. It's because they had other priorities with their shards, and had to live frugally because of it, that it was even still here at all. Couch included, though Mettaton grows a clearer understanding of what a good couch should feature. Tawdry would not be in their future, even if the couch were ostentatious. Guaranteed to be that, at least, but definitely something worth lounging upon.
Furniture is barely in his periphery right now, though. Especially as he makes contact with the Ascian's face, and he leans right into it. With a gasp, the robot's fingers curl slightly, enhancing his grip, before reaching for his other cheek with his other hand.
He was... warm, Mettaton knew. Emet-Selch's face was soft and warm, the structure of bone beneath skin at his cheeks; but god he was warm, and that was a sensation that nearly distracts him from processing anything else Emet-Selch was describing. Display the brightest possible yellow it can be, Mettaton becomes acutely aware of something as soon as he feels the soothing warmth of skin. The feeling he felt... the air. It was slightly cooler than his own body, and he could feel that much so severely that it felt like winter's chill, only... not. He knew winter's chill. He knew this was nothing like it- but it felt so stark and so impossible against his metal body that he gasps again to notice it.
And to register what Emet-Selch's saying- the Crystal. Emet-Selch had been at the Crystal, and the robot almost... envisions the path he took to return home from its violet side. Nearly like a memory... but perhaps it was just one of his own. Only the Overseer knows how often Mettaton himself has charted that path himself. It all becomes clear, though.
Cupping Emet-Selch's face, Mettaton strokes him with his thumb as well.]
Hades...! You're so warm! You're warm, and soft!! [He knew these sensations. He knew them from wearing a human's body; he could feel so starkly the texture of his skin, and feel the warmth from his blood.] You asked...
[This wasn't the dragon's work. Emet-Selch had wished for Mettaton's ability to feel. The robot doesn't register it as a desire to make up for inadequacy, even though this was something that caused the couple much grief. After all, he did want this... and to be provided it again, more sharply than ever, was nothing short of a kindness. Without thinking, the idol unhands Emet-Selch, and pounces on him to draw him into a tight embrace. Pulling him flush to his screen, Mettaton trembles at the feeling of him, his robes, his solid figure so soft, against himself- and is overwhelmed all over again.]
You asked for my ability to touch, and feel... Ohhh, you're so...
[With his body pulled against him, Mettaton finds himsef taking handfuls of hs body wherever he could. He was so remarkably warm- and when his fingertips rub into his upper back, then down to his waist, then round to his arms, he realizes all over again the vivid world of texture, when warmed with heat.]