[Frisk makes a peculiar sniffling-huffing sound that might be mistaken for a laugh, if one were optimistic, which neither of them are, so they don't know why they even try. Why even try? Ha-ha. Ha.

But the effort means something.]

Y-yeah. I guess I'm...afraid to even pretend that she might...

[It's pie. It's butterscotch and cinnamon and Home and Mom and warm flames stirring up ash in the hearth and playfully crinkling through red leaves and a smell that reminds Asgore of his wife and his child.

It's a reminder that Toriel doesn't and probably won't ever trust them. Not while she's from that horrible mistake of a timeline.

Frisk sniffs again, scrubs at their nose with their sleeve.]

I - it's stupid. I should be happy. I'm glad you have your mom back, Chara.