[Another slow blink. Everyone seems so anxious, so worried, their voices and shapes disorganized blurs that eventually resolve into two more easily recognizable images: Alphys, and then...Sans. The rapidity of their speech, the way Alphys's words tumble over each other, the way Sans speaks in clipped little fragments - logically, they can deduce that they must have made both of the mvery worried.
They can't really...feel bad about it. They don't feel much of anything at all.
They sound worried, and they're asking Frisk questions. Frisk answers, because that's what they've been told to do, and they're nothing is not obedient. Follow the keystrokes and the commands.]
I'm okay. [And they feel okay too, they suppose. They feel hollow, they guess, but that's okay. They can't miss what they don't have the capacity to miss. Their expression might just be a little flatter than usual, a little more closed, a little emptier.]
no subject
They can't really...feel bad about it. They don't feel much of anything at all.
They sound worried, and they're asking Frisk questions. Frisk answers, because that's what they've been told to do, and they're nothing is not obedient. Follow the keystrokes and the commands.]
I'm okay. [And they feel okay too, they suppose. They feel hollow, they guess, but that's okay. They can't miss what they don't have the capacity to miss. Their expression might just be a little flatter than usual, a little more closed, a little emptier.]
I'm fine.