[ ... Oh. He's been bumped into. Asriel immediately scrambles, ushering a small apology, except--eyes lock on who it is, and then they narrow.
He's under a very unhappy impression about who you might be, sorry, Frisk; he's rather used to you not being you at all, but having sold your soul, you know how it is. ]
W-why are you here?
[ ... He's... he shouldn't be afraid. He can take them. Right? ]
no subject
He's under a very unhappy impression about who you might be, sorry, Frisk; he's rather used to you not being you at all, but having sold your soul, you know how it is. ]
W-why are you here?
[ ... He's... he shouldn't be afraid. He can take them. Right? ]