[IC INBOX]

[mettatonvevo]

Don't be afraid to talk to me, darlings~!


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[mettatonvevo]

[He's said too much. He knows this. His mirror knows this. The grip on his fingers would be painful if Mettaton thought about it.

He messed up. He shouldn't have talked. Don't engage. Don't fight.]

What's going on with me?

[He... laughs. It's funny. This is funny. Brush this off. Laugh it off.

And then make some changes. This method won't work anymore. He doesn't need to look at the mirror to know that he thinks so too.]

Nothing is going on with me, Sans. You're reading into something that isn't there. Now really, I must go.

[I'll talk to you later he almost says but that's not right, is it? He won't talk to him later. He can't talk to him. He's distracting him from what he needs to do.

He looks to the mirror and already he sees the plan: hide the mirrors when you leave, put extra locks on your door, have an exit strategy to leave the room unnoticed if he or others get too pushy. This is gonna be a long talk between them but it's needed.]

Good bye, Sans.

[He ends the connection. He hangs up. Then he gets to work.]

+1 to ZEZPQB BT FRESMNF IZDVZ BEFVQN GC NBVBW

[punful]

[Mettaton starts laughing, and it sounds all wrong. It's fake. Like he's on TV and the Laughter sign is flashing neon.]

[He feels something like dread. Like something terrible is about to happen, and there's not a damn thing he can do to stop it.]

[It's a familiar feeling.]

no, wait. don't go. metta, wait--

[Too late.]

[He's always too late.]