[oh. infected. that confirms Gon's worries, and his gut twists, halting by Killua's heed. so he stands there, tense and anxious, unsure of what to do. he can't touch Mettaton, but he might not be present enough for de-escalation. he and Killua may have to run, lest they risk infection themselves, but that's not Gon's first instinct. he doesn't want to leave Mettaton behind—he's too stubborn.]

Mettaton, [Gon repeats, though more in concern than to address the robot himself, brow creasing with cross looking stress. it's a little touchy, for Gon—seeing the bodies of people he cares about puppetted about. but at least, grim glimmer of hope that it is, Mettaton's character is certainly readily apparent—he's far from a husk of his former self. he simply seems more distorted. not hollowed out. all the same, it makes his nerves wild, his heartrate increasing even further, beating louder. Gon's fur stands in a slow, rippling ruffle.]

I dunno what's going on with you two, but you don't want to fight us.

[it's not a threat, not at all—Gon doesn't underestimate Mettaton. he's always had a powerful presence, and for fuck's sake, he's a giant robot. it doesn't help that, speaking of reminders, he has some of the flare, shape and lilting charm of Hisoka, so there's a power by association at play as well. perhaps regrettably, it's what had initially drawn Gon to Mettaton.

Gon doesn't actually know how Mettaton feels about things like fighting, nor his relationship to it. but from what little Gon knows of him, he doesn't think he'd just go hogwild without provocation. maybe. but even if Mettaton's behavior weren't off, his appearance gives enough tell that he's not himself.]

And I don't want to fight you, either. This doesn't make sense.