[Mettaton laughs at the message she leaves behind, imagining Irhya trying to steal away to infiltrate their room. Because really, these Witches are so controlling... in all of the worst ways. He had to rely on Elidibus to wash the blood off of his body because they wouldn't help, but they also wouldn't let him leave the hospital when he needed to! He had to make his own daring escape.
Letting his heavy body lay back in the bed, Mettaton's spotted by Irhya with his hand in Emet-Selch's hair, petting over his head with the weak, staggered curl of fingers. Emet-Selch's injuries are covered by a thick blanket drawn up to his shoulders at present, but the hint of bandages are on his neck. His lip is split in an injury severe enough to need stitches, an injury that will likely scar. As for Mettaton himself... Ears aside, he looks decent, but all of the fur that normally sprouts from his forearms and his upper back has been all but torn out. Glossy, clear scabs litter his forearms instead. Robot blood. (???)
Mettaton's not wearing the issued scrubs, for obvious reasons. While he brightens upon seeing her, it's obvious his energy prior to her arrival was subdued.]
Irhya, hey there. [Volume control. He's trying to speak smooth and even without too much excitability.] Come here. You can sit up here, if you'd like.
[He pats their shared bed. About the only generosity from the Witches is the fact that they've used magic on the bed to expand it, making it a bit larger than most—which is only fair, if two people are determinedly sharing it.]
I already slept earlier today. And I'm not as restful as some of us are... Haha. [He pointedly glances toward Emet-Selch before returning his attention to the miqo'te.] How long have you been here, in the infirmary?
no subject
Letting his heavy body lay back in the bed, Mettaton's spotted by Irhya with his hand in Emet-Selch's hair, petting over his head with the weak, staggered curl of fingers. Emet-Selch's injuries are covered by a thick blanket drawn up to his shoulders at present, but the hint of bandages are on his neck. His lip is split in an injury severe enough to need stitches, an injury that will likely scar. As for Mettaton himself... Ears aside, he looks decent, but all of the fur that normally sprouts from his forearms and his upper back has been all but torn out. Glossy, clear scabs litter his forearms instead. Robot blood. (???)
Mettaton's not wearing the issued scrubs, for obvious reasons. While he brightens upon seeing her, it's obvious his energy prior to her arrival was subdued.]
Irhya, hey there. [Volume control. He's trying to speak smooth and even without too much excitability.] Come here. You can sit up here, if you'd like.
[He pats their shared bed. About the only generosity from the Witches is the fact that they've used magic on the bed to expand it, making it a bit larger than most—which is only fair, if two people are determinedly sharing it.]
I already slept earlier today. And I'm not as restful as some of us are... Haha. [He pointedly glances toward Emet-Selch before returning his attention to the miqo'te.] How long have you been here, in the infirmary?