[Mettaton shifts uneasily. He needs to cut this off, but if he hangs up abruptly that will put Sans even more on the scent that Mettaton is lying. So he needs to navigate this carefully. The writing on the mirror is hastily wiped away and replaced with more advice; most of which is to just shut the device off. Mettaton shakes his head.]
How I'm handling it? I'm handling it well, Sans.
[So well.]
It's really not as bad as it sounds. He's all bark, no bite, as they say.
[But he pauses. What did Sans say? That his mirror said he... owned him?]
I'm sorry, he said what?
[That's not inline with anything his mirror has told him. They're partners. They're equals. There's no "ownership" there. Yes there's a sense of belonging, but straight up control? No. No...]
Owns me? That's hilarious. He doesn't own me. No one owns me.
[He's Mettaton. He's his own person. He's getting a little angry, actually. He's not looking at the mirror but at the device before him, his hand still resting against the glass behind him. The writing has stopped completely.]
The things I do are for my benefit, not because someone can control me. And he needs to know that that's not how things are.
[He goes to say something else, to respond, to perhaps continue his tirade or talk about his mirror talking to other people-
Then he feels fingers wrap around his own, sliding through glass, warm metal against metal. It's solid and real and Mettaton lets out a small, almost soundless gasp. He turns to look at the mirror and there are small words written next to where Mirrorton's hand has grasped Mettaton's.
He's lying to you, sweetie. I would never think of you that way. I love you.
Mettaton looks at the message, feels Mirrorton's hand in his... and gives it a slight squeeze. Of course. Of course he's lying. Or misinterpreting. They're partners. They love each other. They're friends.]
If he does try to talk to them, I wouldn't be too phased by it, dear. If we ignore him he'll stop eventually. It's the best course of action.
YEAH I FORGOT TO WARN FOR THE EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION. WHOOPS. HERE'S MORE.
How I'm handling it? I'm handling it well, Sans.
[So well.]
It's really not as bad as it sounds. He's all bark, no bite, as they say.
[But he pauses. What did Sans say? That his mirror said he... owned him?]
I'm sorry, he said what?
[That's not inline with anything his mirror has told him. They're partners. They're equals. There's no "ownership" there. Yes there's a sense of belonging, but straight up control? No. No...]
Owns me? That's hilarious. He doesn't own me. No one owns me.
[He's Mettaton. He's his own person. He's getting a little angry, actually. He's not looking at the mirror but at the device before him, his hand still resting against the glass behind him. The writing has stopped completely.]
The things I do are for my benefit, not because someone can control me. And he needs to know that that's not how things are.
[He goes to say something else, to respond, to perhaps continue his tirade or talk about his mirror talking to other people-
Then he feels fingers wrap around his own, sliding through glass, warm metal against metal. It's solid and real and Mettaton lets out a small, almost soundless gasp. He turns to look at the mirror and there are small words written next to where Mirrorton's hand has grasped Mettaton's.
He's lying to you, sweetie. I would never think of you that way. I love you.
Mettaton looks at the message, feels Mirrorton's hand in his... and gives it a slight squeeze. Of course. Of course he's lying. Or misinterpreting. They're partners. They love each other. They're friends.]
If he does try to talk to them, I wouldn't be too phased by it, dear. If we ignore him he'll stop eventually. It's the best course of action.