It all comes gushing out, just like their great ectoplasmic tears. At least there's no bullet box. They're tired, they're tired, but...there can be something nice in helping anther person. In seeing another person get better.

Frisk reaches out gently with one hand to give the little ghost a tentative pat - assuming they can. They're not altogether sure how solid Napstablook has to be for this to work.

"Mettaton doesn't talk to people about things a lot," they say quietly. "He's really very bad at it. That's not your fault. You feel...like you're imposing if you bring it up. Right?"