Mettaton thinks on their words for a few moments, lightly stirring his drink. The sounds of the party seem far away from them both, despite the music being loud and jaunty and the crowd large.

"Are you not worried that your placement on the fence may be more dangerous than picking a side?"

Not having any allies, trying to placate both sides of an ever-increasing conflict... He wonders idly if one day he'll be attending their funeral.