[One of Mettaton's greatest defenses: his ability to distract and break concentration, it's true.
Mettaton grins madly as Killua's temper flares, excited at the prospect of having incited him, of eliciting a response at all. He begins to laugh. Let go? But he's only just gotten started, and he has so much Cwyld to pass around! The Circle would be so pleased.
The acute sense of danger strikes the Puca, causing him to stagger and freeze—and it's plenty enough of a chance to give Killua a chance to yank his arm right out of its socket. Electricity sparks and his body jerks, a short cry of pain strangled from his throat as metal breaks and moans underhand. Mettaton's whole arm goes with Killua, and he loses his grip on him for... obvious reasons.
And now he's the one who's been agitated. Mettaton sees red.]
You—!! My arm!
[EVERYONE KEEPS TAKING HIS ARM... But this time, Mettaton's immediately angered, and he grounds his stance.]
How dare you! You awful— ooooh, you must be desperate for my touch, if you're going to take my hand like that! But if you wanted my Cwyld, you could have just taken my offer!
[To be so loud about this, to be so brazen, indicates a slip of sanity. Who loudly announces they have the Cwyld in a public space? Mettaton stomps his foot, grinding his teeth as he glares at Killua, the intent to fight back clear.]
no subject
Mettaton grins madly as Killua's temper flares, excited at the prospect of having incited him, of eliciting a response at all. He begins to laugh. Let go? But he's only just gotten started, and he has so much Cwyld to pass around! The Circle would be so pleased.
The acute sense of danger strikes the Puca, causing him to stagger and freeze—and it's plenty enough of a chance to give Killua a chance to yank his arm right out of its socket. Electricity sparks and his body jerks, a short cry of pain strangled from his throat as metal breaks and moans underhand. Mettaton's whole arm goes with Killua, and he loses his grip on him for... obvious reasons.
And now he's the one who's been agitated. Mettaton sees red.]
You—!! My arm!
[EVERYONE KEEPS TAKING HIS ARM... But this time, Mettaton's immediately angered, and he grounds his stance.]
How dare you! You awful— ooooh, you must be desperate for my touch, if you're going to take my hand like that! But if you wanted my Cwyld, you could have just taken my offer!
[To be so loud about this, to be so brazen, indicates a slip of sanity. Who loudly announces they have the Cwyld in a public space? Mettaton stomps his foot, grinding his teeth as he glares at Killua, the intent to fight back clear.]