They don't spend a lot of time in the library, themselves - they're more content to reread the same plant encyclopedias and worn copy of Kitchen over and over again than seek out something new. They know, however, that Frisk likes the library. All those myths had to come from somewhere. They remember a tiny figure nodding off over a book about determinism. They remember a pair of scissors being thrown at them and a crude little makeshift bed.

When they run away, they loiter in diners. When Frisk runs away, they huddle in a library.

Not surprised, then, when they find Frisk tucked into a corner.

"Howdy," they call.

"I haven't opened your door." Better to get that out of the way. Let them know the boundaries are all in place. They're keeping the line neatly drawn between what's Frisk and what's Chara. Keeping that safe, secure step or two of space between you and I firmly where it needs to be. They're going to be good. This will be okay.

Really. It'll be okay.

"Do... you want to be alone?"