A reaction. But one Emet-Selch had trouble deciding what meant. There was no flash of recognition of it being anything other than a name, but there was no obvious bewilderment or confusion either. It answered nothing. But it certainly wasn't something to inquire about now, so apart from a briefly uncomfortable look, he allows it to lie.
But Mettaton's recognition of the mistake and his apology gets a faint shrug as he rests back; he'd wave it off if he could, but while the robot's arms are noodly and limp, his are formerly-eaten (if reconstituted) and limp. Had the door been open, had there been other non-Elidibus people around, he would've been more exasperated (that Mettaton had already used his name before, in front of doctors, he doesn't entirely remember; he'd not been in the best frame of mind either), but as it went, it was an error of minimal harm. And with Elidibus' reminder, Mettaton knew better now.
The Emissary's use of Mettaton's name gets a brief, if mildly surprised look, though it settles into one of equally as mild approval. At least Elidibus wasn't as resistant to the idea of using the names of others, unlike Lahabrea.
And with a bit of added help, the two are duly extricated from one another as much as they can be. Though contact remains, it's not of the sort to get too much in the way. And even were there space on the bed, there was only so much extrication either of them would tolerate.
Mettaton's continued anticipation towards a cleaning remained expected, if faintly endearing. He knew how much care his Bonded took towards his appearance, and the days spent without a wash had been- less than comfortable for either of them. The Ascian hadn't quite inured himself to the smell of old blood, and it would be a relief to not keep experiencing it. That Elidibus had decided on this task for himself... it would be worth some gratitude, perhaps, even if he hadn't arrived here with the purpose of washing either of them.
But that heaviness at the end of the puca's words.... Emet-Selch did indeed recognize the threat of that pause. He'd heard it only once before, and he hadn't immediately known what it portended. Emet-Selch-darling had been a spoken atrocity that had only occurred a single time, followed by that same realization that no, this would not do. It was only on their next meeting that the fruits of Mettaton's creativity had solved the issue: Emmy-darling. He'd been no more amused by it than Elidibus had been, but of course the puca had completely ignored his demands not to do that to his poor title. By now he was used to it and Selchy (which was debatably worse), and since he heard them so rarely anyway these days, only in circumstances like this, when they were in another's company- he'd just kind of accepted it.
(Had the awareness of the preferability of Hades-darling over the butchering of his title influenced his decision to give Mettaton his true name? No. ...Not entirely, anyway. It was a bonus, though.)
Regardless: he knows that pause and what it means now, but apart from briefly closing his eyes, steeling himself against Inevitability, he says nothing on it.
"But there you have it, Elidibus. With the lack of a readily available bathtub, there's little harm you can do."
For now, Emet-Selch settles on his half of the bed that now seems even smaller now that he and his robotic Bonded are less compressed upon it, wondering if it was worth casting about for a blanket to re-cover his chest now that it wasn't being currently attended to. It was damp and he was cold, but after a dissatisfied huff he remains sulking back into his pillow, eyes opening again, as though the impending vision of the Emissary cleaning his puca was something too absurd to miss.
no subject
But Mettaton's recognition of the mistake and his apology gets a faint shrug as he rests back; he'd wave it off if he could, but while the robot's arms are noodly and limp, his are formerly-eaten (if reconstituted) and limp. Had the door been open, had there been other non-Elidibus people around, he would've been more exasperated (that Mettaton had already used his name before, in front of doctors, he doesn't entirely remember; he'd not been in the best frame of mind either), but as it went, it was an error of minimal harm. And with Elidibus' reminder, Mettaton knew better now.
The Emissary's use of Mettaton's name gets a brief, if mildly surprised look, though it settles into one of equally as mild approval. At least Elidibus wasn't as resistant to the idea of using the names of others, unlike Lahabrea.
And with a bit of added help, the two are duly extricated from one another as much as they can be. Though contact remains, it's not of the sort to get too much in the way. And even were there space on the bed, there was only so much extrication either of them would tolerate.
Mettaton's continued anticipation towards a cleaning remained expected, if faintly endearing. He knew how much care his Bonded took towards his appearance, and the days spent without a wash had been- less than comfortable for either of them. The Ascian hadn't quite inured himself to the smell of old blood, and it would be a relief to not keep experiencing it. That Elidibus had decided on this task for himself... it would be worth some gratitude, perhaps, even if he hadn't arrived here with the purpose of washing either of them.
But that heaviness at the end of the puca's words.... Emet-Selch did indeed recognize the threat of that pause. He'd heard it only once before, and he hadn't immediately known what it portended. Emet-Selch-darling had been a spoken atrocity that had only occurred a single time, followed by that same realization that no, this would not do. It was only on their next meeting that the fruits of Mettaton's creativity had solved the issue: Emmy-darling. He'd been no more amused by it than Elidibus had been, but of course the puca had completely ignored his demands not to do that to his poor title. By now he was used to it and Selchy (which was debatably worse), and since he heard them so rarely anyway these days, only in circumstances like this, when they were in another's company- he'd just kind of accepted it.
(Had the awareness of the preferability of Hades-darling over the butchering of his title influenced his decision to give Mettaton his true name? No. ...Not entirely, anyway. It was a bonus, though.)
Regardless: he knows that pause and what it means now, but apart from briefly closing his eyes, steeling himself against Inevitability, he says nothing on it.
"But there you have it, Elidibus. With the lack of a readily available bathtub, there's little harm you can do."
For now, Emet-Selch settles on his half of the bed that now seems even smaller now that he and his robotic Bonded are less compressed upon it, wondering if it was worth casting about for a blanket to re-cover his chest now that it wasn't being currently attended to. It was damp and he was cold, but after a dissatisfied huff he remains sulking back into his pillow, eyes opening again, as though the impending vision of the Emissary cleaning his puca was something too absurd to miss.