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“DARLING.”
Alphys jumps despite herself, tearing her eyes away from the screen and whirling around in her chair. Mettaton’s current body doesn’t quite have a full range of emotion - which he fully makes up for with his exaggerated posing - but even staring at the blank monitor that makes up his face, she can tell he’s raising his eyebrows at her.
“I know,” she mutters, “I know. I'm going to s-stop.”
Her eyes dart back to the screen - Undyne is in her full Captain armour, a spear clutched in one hand, stalking her way back to Waterfall with a certain angry intensity to her - and then back to Mettaton, gently swaying on his wheel, still staring expectantly.
“I just…” the scientist gnaws at her lip, leaning back in her chair. “I j-just want to help.”
“HELP WHO? UNDYNE?” Mettaton’s always loud, but his slightly tinny voice sounds painfully booming in the near-silence of Alphys’ lab, especially against her own soft tones. “I DON’T THINK SHE’D LET YOU. SHE’S ALWAYS BEEN… EGOTISTICAL,”
(“Pot meet kettle,” Alphys mutters,)
“AND YOU KNOW SHE’D WANT TO CAPTURE THE HUMAN HERSELF. EITHER THAT OR GET HER PROTÉGÉ TO DO IT - THE SKELETON - SO SHE CAN AT LEAST HAVE SOME OF THE CREDIT.”
The dinosaur monster sighs, tapping her claws absently on the table. “His - the skeleton’s - name is Papyrus, Metta. A-And I don’t think you give her enough credit. Besides,” her eyes glaze thoughtfully, “that’s not what I h-had in mind.”
Mettaton tilts a little further to one side, before catching himself and returning to his usual balanced sway - his practiced, neckless version of a head tilt. “OH? AND WHY NOT? WHATEVER COULD BE MORE IMPORTANT THAN WOOING YOUR ONE TRUE LOVE, ALLIE?”
Alphys adamantly ignores the way her own scales flush orange-red, and instead taps at a few buttons on the console. The screen buffers, turns to static - and then centres in on an equally-pixelated recording of… a human, assumedly.
Mettaton (metaphorically) squints at the creature - he’s not had a chance to give them a good look yet. They’ve got hair, and brownish skin, and fingers, and- and-
His gaze catches on their striped jumper.
“IT’S A CHILD,” he says, something distant in his voice. “ONLY CHILDREN WEAR STRIPES.”
“A-And adult humans are usually twice the size,” Alphys adds gently.
“SO… WE ARE HUNTING… A CHILD?”
“No, Undyne is hunting a child. A-Asgore is hunting a child. We…” she pauses, looks away, contemplates. “We’re g-gonna save them.”
A pause.
“Or, uh, I-I’m gonna save them.” Alphys fidgets, smiling shyly. “Metta, y-... you’ve always wanted to p-play a villain, right?”
…
Oh.
Oh, this he can do.
Mettaton laughs, twirling on his wheel. “ALRIGHT, ALLIE. WHERE’S MY SCRIPT? UNLESS, OF COURSE, YOU WANT ME TO TRY OUT SOME LIGHT IMPROV.”