[So rooms are ripe for the claiming, are they? So there are empty rooms abound for newcomers, huh? That doesn't appeal to Mettaton as much as finding already furnished quarters, and it just so happens he's picked yours.
Upon returning to your room, there's an unfamiliar, anachronistic object residing within, a metallic rectangle juxtaposed against the natural stone and linen. It might be easy to assume that this is somebody's unwanted trash, if not for the way he props himself up in a lounging position against his arm, cradling his body with a hand.
He's on your bed, and as soon as you enter, his screen lights up bright yellow.]
WELL WELL WELL. ENTERING WITHOUT KNOCKING, ARE WE...? HOW NAUGHTY. THE AUDACITY OF SOME PEOPLE.
[...This is your room. Isn't it?]
NO WORRIES, BEAUTIFUL. I'LL ALLOW IT. HOW COULD YOU ABSTAIN FROM ENTERING, KNOWING I AWAIT WITHIN? YOU MUST BE BARELY ABLE TO CONTAIN YOUR CURIOSITY! AND ANYWAY. IT ISN'T AS THOUGH THESE DOORS HAVE A PROPER LOCK ON THEM!
[Mettaton flourishes with his free hand in a shrug, but stays put.]
2. HAPPY UN-BIRTHDAY.
CAN'T TAKE YOUR EYES OFF ME, CAN YOU, DARLING?
[It's as if he can't stop doing really obnoxious things in multiple different locations! What a treat! Mettaton's cleared part of the table in order to accommodate his boxy figure, where he reclines against a mess of pillows while seemingly sipping a cup of tea. He holds one finger out high and elegant, but it's hard to determine if it's his pinkie: he only has three fingers and a thumb. Nonetheless, it's hard not to stare: he's made himself a fixture of the table more imposing than the spread of food.
More curiously, there is no mouth for him to receive this serving of tea. He brings it back up to the area just beneath his screen, which displays the letter "M" on it in red against yellow. He... sips. Maybe.]
INSTEAD OF LOOKING ON LIKE A LOVESTRUCK SPECTATOR, WHY NOT JOIN ME? I'M NOT SO UNTOUCHABLE THAT I WOULD DENY YOUR COMPANY! SURELY YOU DIDN'T COME IN HERE JUST TO WATCH AN INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE ROBOT SIP HIS TEA, DID YOU??
[You could accept. There are all sorts of various effects you could be unfortunately burdened with, and Mettaton, none at all.]
3. OFF WITH YOUR HEAD.
[The tables have turned. Mettaton is so used to being the one in charge of the performance that, upon passing the tantalizing golden gates and rolling onto red carpet that seems so in his element, he doesn't realize that he's arrived on stage with somebody already there. The gate slams shut.]
OH MY.
[Before he gets a chance to address his company, they are both presented with cards and become assigned actors-in-arms. Mettaton holds it in front of him and regards it in silence, the tiles of his screen individually alternating between red and yellow at random while he considers his "role".
A heart manifests in red upon his visage. Mettaton skips right to the act, clasping together his hands and facing their audience.]
BUT WHAT OF THE PRINCESSES WHO DON'T WANT A PRINCE? WHAT OF THE PRINCESSES... LIKE ME? [He presses the back of his hand to the rough equivalent of his "forehead", his screen flickering dim yellow. The robotic star continues on in a voice terribly ill-suited for a princess in its deep, mechanically auto-tuned tones.] NOT ONLY DOES THE VERY NOTION OF MARRYING OFF TO AN INEXPERIENCED PRINCE BORE ME, BUT NONE OF THE PRINCES I'VE EVER MET APPRECIATE ME FOR WHO I TRULY AM INSIDE. DAYS GO BY AND I YEARN NOT FOR A PRINCE, BUT FOR AN EXCEPTION TO THAT TIRED TALE!
[He sobs quietly, covering his screen with his hands. Maybe it's time for this to turn into a dialogue?]
4. WILDCARD.
[Hit me with something else. Hell, you can even pick any of the prompts and approach it differently i.e. off with your head, but with a different set of cards. I'll work with it.]
Mettaton | Undertale
Upon returning to your room, there's an unfamiliar, anachronistic object residing within, a metallic rectangle juxtaposed against the natural stone and linen. It might be easy to assume that this is somebody's unwanted trash, if not for the way he props himself up in a lounging position against his arm, cradling his body with a hand.
He's on your bed, and as soon as you enter, his screen lights up bright yellow.]
WELL WELL WELL. ENTERING WITHOUT KNOCKING, ARE WE...? HOW NAUGHTY. THE AUDACITY OF SOME PEOPLE.
[...This is your room. Isn't it?]
NO WORRIES, BEAUTIFUL. I'LL ALLOW IT. HOW COULD YOU ABSTAIN FROM ENTERING, KNOWING I AWAIT WITHIN? YOU MUST BE BARELY ABLE TO CONTAIN YOUR CURIOSITY! AND ANYWAY. IT ISN'T AS THOUGH THESE DOORS HAVE A PROPER LOCK ON THEM!
[Mettaton flourishes with his free hand in a shrug, but stays put.]
2. HAPPY UN-BIRTHDAY.
[It's as if he can't stop doing really obnoxious things in multiple different locations! What a treat! Mettaton's cleared part of the table in order to accommodate his boxy figure, where he reclines against a mess of pillows while seemingly sipping a cup of tea. He holds one finger out high and elegant, but it's hard to determine if it's his pinkie: he only has three fingers and a thumb. Nonetheless, it's hard not to stare: he's made himself a fixture of the table more imposing than the spread of food.
More curiously, there is no mouth for him to receive this serving of tea. He brings it back up to the area just beneath his screen, which displays the letter "M" on it in red against yellow. He... sips. Maybe.]
INSTEAD OF LOOKING ON LIKE A LOVESTRUCK SPECTATOR, WHY NOT JOIN ME? I'M NOT SO UNTOUCHABLE THAT I WOULD DENY YOUR COMPANY! SURELY YOU DIDN'T COME IN HERE JUST TO WATCH AN INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE ROBOT SIP HIS TEA, DID YOU??
[You could accept. There are all sorts of various effects you could be unfortunately burdened with, and Mettaton, none at all.]
3. OFF WITH YOUR HEAD.
OH MY.
[Before he gets a chance to address his company, they are both presented with cards and become assigned actors-in-arms. Mettaton holds it in front of him and regards it in silence, the tiles of his screen individually alternating between red and yellow at random while he considers his "role".
A heart manifests in red upon his visage. Mettaton skips right to the act, clasping together his hands and facing their audience.]
ONCE UPON A TIME, A PRINCESS EXISTED. [Mettaton pauses, allowing the cliché to resound in the arena before he plants one hand on his "hip" and gestures impatiently with the other.] ...YOU ALL KNOW HOW THE STORY GOES: LONELY PRINCESS YEARNS FOR ETERNITY SPENT WITH ENCHANTING PRINCE. FINALLY, SHE MEETS HIM, THE LOVE OF HER LIFE. FINALLY, SHE HAS FOUND HER PLACE IN THE WORLD, AND CAN REST EASY AT THE SIDE OF HER NOBLE PRINCE. HAPPILY EVER AFTER.
BUT WHAT OF THE PRINCESSES WHO DON'T WANT A PRINCE? WHAT OF THE PRINCESSES... LIKE ME? [He presses the back of his hand to the rough equivalent of his "forehead", his screen flickering dim yellow. The robotic star continues on in a voice terribly ill-suited for a princess in its deep, mechanically auto-tuned tones.] NOT ONLY DOES THE VERY NOTION OF MARRYING OFF TO AN INEXPERIENCED PRINCE BORE ME, BUT NONE OF THE PRINCES I'VE EVER MET APPRECIATE ME FOR WHO I TRULY AM INSIDE. DAYS GO BY AND I YEARN NOT FOR A PRINCE, BUT FOR AN EXCEPTION TO THAT TIRED TALE!
[He sobs quietly, covering his screen with his hands. Maybe it's time for this to turn into a dialogue?]
4. WILDCARD.