"Um," Chara mumbles, wringing their sleeves desperately. They're gonna stretch it beyond recognition, the way they're going, but they don't care. "Her Majesty keeps an eye on her creations. It's dangerous to tell secrets when somebody's listening. But... but for you, if, um, if you want to know, I can maybe answer any questions you have?" They offer, falteringly, the last syllable twisting up into a shakily optimistic note.

"But what I meant was... was the truth about us. I mean... the us on your side of the glass. Toriel hasn't covered the mirror in her room. There are mirrors in the tearooms. I know... I know why the Frisk here is so angry. Wanted so bad to make a point that you can't SAVE us, that... that we won't change."

Lie. That's a lie. But they lie so well. That's just what they are, right? "I know what your Chara has really been telling Toriel."