[Mettaton may not have sworn to a Puca's promise, but it wouldn't be unwise to trust him: it's clear he has some kind of vested interested in taking the dying cultist from Berserker, one way or another. Of course it's his problem.
His ears rise at the suggestion of a debt. The Sly Seadog. His mind swims, fixed on the taste of blood, even though he usually can get a bite of it every night... Mettaton smiles a plastic smile, one that doesn't reach his eye, given the tension of the moment.]
You've got it, darling! We'll discuss it then. [And while he hadn't considered it something needing recompense, he realizes he doesn't mind the gesture... It should have recompense.] I'll be off, with... this. Take care now! Toodles!
[Before Berserker can learn much else about the robot (not that he's a difficult sight or name in the Entertainment District; there are even posters with his image on it here and there), he scampers off on fleet feet, clutching the body close and curled to his chest as though he cares about the cultist. One could say he did, whether they ended up in the infirmary or as Puca food.]
no subject
His ears rise at the suggestion of a debt. The Sly Seadog. His mind swims, fixed on the taste of blood, even though he usually can get a bite of it every night... Mettaton smiles a plastic smile, one that doesn't reach his eye, given the tension of the moment.]
You've got it, darling! We'll discuss it then. [And while he hadn't considered it something needing recompense, he realizes he doesn't mind the gesture... It should have recompense.] I'll be off, with... this. Take care now! Toodles!
[Before Berserker can learn much else about the robot (not that he's a difficult sight or name in the Entertainment District; there are even posters with his image on it here and there), he scampers off on fleet feet, clutching the body close and curled to his chest as though he cares about the cultist. One could say he did, whether they ended up in the infirmary or as Puca food.]