Of course he's going to want to be carried! Only if Elidibus showed some sign of dropping him would Mettaton have demonstrated his ability to amble along, or at least help. It's much more glamorous to be princess carried. He'd say he looks gorgeous in a dress.
"I hadn't even thought about shapeshifting," admits the Puca, gazing ceilingward. And though the thought of becoming a compact hare is now there for the consideration, he dismisses it just as easily. "Oh well. Elidibus here is perfectly capable of carrying me! There are no problems!"
He even princess carried him. Mettaton is pleased. He squeezes Emet-Selch's fingers, smiling smugly as though they didn't just spend the last few days dying and whatnot. Mettaton has a knack for glossing over the worst of issues in this way.
Mettaton stares at Elidibus wide-eyed as soon as the other Witch makes his request. Self-diagnostics... For some reason, he hadn't thought such words would escape Elidibus' mouth. It's always hard to gauge how technologically savvy someone is, and the phrasing suggests that he needs to play his role more carefully. It's perhaps a boon to the Puca that his ears are so damaged that they can't emote, for they might have risen in shock then folded back in unease if they could. But they do nothing, and his face is only wide and blank.
A canvas which he uses, morphing surprise into utter emptiness. Incredulity. Then, Mettaton puts forth his best robot impression, gaze vacant and voice tinny and monotonous.
"3... 2... 1... Self-diagnostics: complete." His brow knits, drawing his expression into one of ire that he points at Elidibus. Monotonous quality is lost as he continues, though it's still spoken through a synthesized, robotic filter. "My analysis suggests that your eyes are functioning just fine, sweetheart!! You can see my damage clear as day! Use them!!!"
He clutches onto Emet-Selch's hand with both of his own now, giving Elidibus a smile sharp as knives. His voice returns to normal: abnormally silky and very emphatic as ever, riding the waves of inflection to draw attention to his every word. And though he speaks sweetly, the challenging darkness of his expression doesn't depart, as though affronted that he'd ask him to perform (gasp) a robotic function.
"Or you can ask me how I'm doing. To which I'll reply: splendidly, now that I'm finally clean! Though I have a few repairs to endure, from both my creator and Emmy... I'll be bouncing back before you can count the letters of my name." Which, as anyone true fan would know, is as long as he would like for it to be. "Thank you for the concern, Lidi-darling."
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"I hadn't even thought about shapeshifting," admits the Puca, gazing ceilingward. And though the thought of becoming a compact hare is now there for the consideration, he dismisses it just as easily. "Oh well. Elidibus here is perfectly capable of carrying me! There are no problems!"
He even princess carried him. Mettaton is pleased. He squeezes Emet-Selch's fingers, smiling smugly as though they didn't just spend the last few days dying and whatnot. Mettaton has a knack for glossing over the worst of issues in this way.
Mettaton stares at Elidibus wide-eyed as soon as the other Witch makes his request. Self-diagnostics... For some reason, he hadn't thought such words would escape Elidibus' mouth. It's always hard to gauge how technologically savvy someone is, and the phrasing suggests that he needs to play his role more carefully. It's perhaps a boon to the Puca that his ears are so damaged that they can't emote, for they might have risen in shock then folded back in unease if they could. But they do nothing, and his face is only wide and blank.
A canvas which he uses, morphing surprise into utter emptiness. Incredulity. Then, Mettaton puts forth his best robot impression, gaze vacant and voice tinny and monotonous.
"3... 2... 1... Self-diagnostics: complete." His brow knits, drawing his expression into one of ire that he points at Elidibus. Monotonous quality is lost as he continues, though it's still spoken through a synthesized, robotic filter. "My analysis suggests that your eyes are functioning just fine, sweetheart!! You can see my damage clear as day! Use them!!!"
He clutches onto Emet-Selch's hand with both of his own now, giving Elidibus a smile sharp as knives. His voice returns to normal: abnormally silky and very emphatic as ever, riding the waves of inflection to draw attention to his every word. And though he speaks sweetly, the challenging darkness of his expression doesn't depart, as though affronted that he'd ask him to perform (gasp) a robotic function.
"Or you can ask me how I'm doing. To which I'll reply: splendidly, now that I'm finally clean! Though I have a few repairs to endure, from both my creator and Emmy... I'll be bouncing back before you can count the letters of my name." Which, as anyone true fan would know, is as long as he would like for it to be. "Thank you for the concern, Lidi-darling."