[Yes, Mettaton does know the way of Ascians. Helping humans like this seems to be with some end in mind. Hell, even humans operate like this, he knows.
When Lahabrea bares his fangs, Mettaton's expression remains wide and curious. But his ears... Oh, his ears. They rise, alert in his alarm. No matter how he tries, Lahabrea strikes him as a Dragon here, and his Puca-brain associates those teeth too far with a twice-over encounter with possible ruination. But aside from the disobedient ears, his face is collected. One could say it's the beast in him that reacts with fear, natural for a Puca.
Rationally, though, this isn't threatening. Mettaton knows this. And ultimately... he nods after sparing Lahabrea's reason some thought.]
I see. Makes sense! [If Mettaton had it in him to just make these devices do their thing, he'd probably do it for some similarly selfish reason. He shrugs with an arm and a renewed smile of his own, though there's nothing threatening about it.] Whatever satisfies you, sweetheart. Speaking of.
[Mettaton tucks his hand... probably wherever he got the watch from. A folded wad of notes is placed on the table—a generous donation, though he knows well that most Dragons are plenty capable of earning oodles of money just for selling a scale.]
I appreciate it. It's a step in the right direction for this poor, drab city.
no subject
When Lahabrea bares his fangs, Mettaton's expression remains wide and curious. But his ears... Oh, his ears. They rise, alert in his alarm. No matter how he tries, Lahabrea strikes him as a Dragon here, and his Puca-brain associates those teeth too far with a twice-over encounter with possible ruination. But aside from the disobedient ears, his face is collected. One could say it's the beast in him that reacts with fear, natural for a Puca.
Rationally, though, this isn't threatening. Mettaton knows this. And ultimately... he nods after sparing Lahabrea's reason some thought.]
I see. Makes sense! [If Mettaton had it in him to just make these devices do their thing, he'd probably do it for some similarly selfish reason. He shrugs with an arm and a renewed smile of his own, though there's nothing threatening about it.] Whatever satisfies you, sweetheart. Speaking of.
[Mettaton tucks his hand... probably wherever he got the watch from. A folded wad of notes is placed on the table—a generous donation, though he knows well that most Dragons are plenty capable of earning oodles of money just for selling a scale.]
I appreciate it. It's a step in the right direction for this poor, drab city.