"Your face isn't creepy," says Frisk absently, fingering the ends of their wire-and-feather wings. "Even when you do that thing with the gunk and stuff."

But Chara did ask, so they might as well experiment. Frisk breathes in, shuts their eyes. Opens their hand again. Move in front of the next door, and before knocking upon the request for treats rather than tricks, fill with determination.

And then there's the warm glow, and it's done.

"I needed a minute to do it just then, too," they say, head to one side. Maybe that's just them. Maybe they're just...sentimental, maybe. Well, they are, they already knew that. But maybe they're more sentimental than they necessarily have to be?