[Mettaton's ears perk up even further, leaning at a sort of confident, content angle and even flicking a little with his cockiness.]
I'm nothing if not capable of enrapturing an audience. Hades, or otherwise.
[... Even if Hades considered the performances he saw in all of Mettaton's memories to be... Verbally, he called them "distinct." A dangerously loaded word... Mettaton is too vain to think he wouldn't have his full attention, regardless of the kind of show he were participating in. (The saving grace of being in a place so populated with other performers: Mettaton can collaborate!)
The robot spares another glance ceilingbound, trying to figure out just what he's trying to verbalize when it all strikes him at once. Nostalgic, despite being nothing like it. Looking at a ceiling full of stars reminds him so much of his own home, where the sky wasn't something he'd ever seen before. A ceiling like this, a replica of the starry sky... It'll be Hades' only rendition of his own sky, now. Still, Mettaton snickers somewhat, remembering that the only memory he'd seen of his Bonded's prior to the fall of Amaurot was one that started with him stargazing (and soul-gazing).]
To remember this sight so vividly... The both of you must have had your eyes trained skyward often.
[The thought is endearing. He used to be someone like that, even when he had no actual stars to gaze upon.]
no subject
I'm nothing if not capable of enrapturing an audience. Hades, or otherwise.
[... Even if Hades considered the performances he saw in all of Mettaton's memories to be... Verbally, he called them "distinct." A dangerously loaded word... Mettaton is too vain to think he wouldn't have his full attention, regardless of the kind of show he were participating in. (The saving grace of being in a place so populated with other performers: Mettaton can collaborate!)
The robot spares another glance ceilingbound, trying to figure out just what he's trying to verbalize when it all strikes him at once. Nostalgic, despite being nothing like it. Looking at a ceiling full of stars reminds him so much of his own home, where the sky wasn't something he'd ever seen before. A ceiling like this, a replica of the starry sky... It'll be Hades' only rendition of his own sky, now. Still, Mettaton snickers somewhat, remembering that the only memory he'd seen of his Bonded's prior to the fall of Amaurot was one that started with him stargazing (and soul-gazing).]
To remember this sight so vividly... The both of you must have had your eyes trained skyward often.
[The thought is endearing. He used to be someone like that, even when he had no actual stars to gaze upon.]