[He'd prefer not to have to think about it at all. It had taken far too long to get the smell of blood, oil and Cwyld out of his clothes and off his skin, and longer still to purge the persistent memory of it out of his senses. The only reason he speaks up is that Mettaton deserves to know - as anyone would deserve to know - just who had put him out of his suffering in the end.]

I'm fine.

[That is, he's not irreparably shaken by what he needed to do. Bailey, though, might need a little longer to move past it.]

Part of my purpose on Tierra - where I come from - is to put an end to rampaging creatures for the sake of protecting others. As for bringing you both back, think nothing of it.