Hopefully well, [he says, still mulling over that first statement. Let her go...? But. But he is so tall, and her paw are so little. What if she hurts them? What if she springs off the bed and into the abyss? Keats is already attached to her - Mettaton can't let her bounce into an unfortunate accident.
...sigh. With a sad sort of reluctance, Mettaton lets her down, gently, onto one of Oliver's pillow. Like a burst of wind, she immediately flies into the sheets and tangles herself underneath them, pouncing nothing recklessly like some sort of hyperactive ghost doing their first possession.
Mettaton takes a seat next to her, watching her go. He crosses one leg over the other. Drums the fingers of his free hand on his knee.
No matter how many of these he does, it's always hard to just come out with it.
Finally, he holds out the item he'd been hiding behind his back. It's a wireless microphone, signed with Mettaton's signature in silver ink.]
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...sigh. With a sad sort of reluctance, Mettaton lets her down, gently, onto one of Oliver's pillow. Like a burst of wind, she immediately flies into the sheets and tangles herself underneath them, pouncing nothing recklessly like some sort of hyperactive ghost doing their first possession.
Mettaton takes a seat next to her, watching her go. He crosses one leg over the other. Drums the fingers of his free hand on his knee.
No matter how many of these he does, it's always hard to just come out with it.
Finally, he holds out the item he'd been hiding behind his back. It's a wireless microphone, signed with Mettaton's signature in silver ink.]
I wanted to give you something.