[Frisk shakes their head with a little disparaging snort. It's about a fifty-fifty success rate thus far - they can get away with filching supplies on really busy days, but they think Mr. Rutherford might be acquiring an eye on the back of his head specifically for them.]

I just ask my mom for healing, if I really need it. She's better than any of those assistant nurses up the hospital wing, and she gives you Butterscotch-Cinnamon pie afterwards.