[It would come as a surprise to anyone that Mettaton hasn't done much to his watch as of yet, or else it would have been repulsively noteworthy to start. No, it's rather default... save for the pictures on it, of which there are many. Many, and also absolutely terrible. (For everyone's sake, we can only hope Lahabrea did not rifle through them. Devices aren't password protected, after all: it was left in his hands in good faith, and a bit of carelessness and trust to boot.)

Mettaton slinks back into his seat before Lahabrea's work table. He... readily assumes the one sitting to the side is his, and picks it up between delicate fingers, ears attentive. Powering it to life idly, Mettaton glances up with a quirk of his brow.]

Every single one? You have your work cut out to you. [His brow's furrowed, and a small frown works its way onto his synthetic features. Actually, it's a bit of a pout.] And knowing that lots of our fellow Mirrorbound and citizens alike will squander your generous offer...

[Mettaton clicks his tongue. He is obviously less pleased about this obstacle now that he's had time to digest it rather than bouncing excitedly into getting the upgrade for himself, and his ears lean back irately. The thought that some Mirrorbound would be content to squander the opportunity to see Mettaton in full color is a terrible one.]

Something must be done about that.