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[determinedest]

You've reached Frisk. If I'm not answering my phone, please leave a message or find me on the second floor, Room 12.

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[determinedest]

I...I guess, yeah.

[It's a cheering-up effort, they know that much. But they feel a little better.

Tentatively, timidly, they skim a bit of whipped cream off the top of the pie and lick it from their fingertip.]

...Thanks.

[fulllifeconsequences]

[Well. They're letting themselves eat it. The miniscule, hesitant nibbles aren't so bad; Chara knows what it's like to think you have to make it last.

They plant their hands on the bedspread, ready to stand, but pause. Uncertain.]

Do... you need anything else?

[determinedest]

I don't think so. Not anymore.

[They allow themselves a smile. It's wavering, and weak, but sincere.]

You're a good friend.

[fulllifeconsequences]

[They don't smile back. Don't know why. Is not smiling more or less sincere if you always have a smile on? If they don't feel like smiling, is that rudeness or honesty?

Whatever. Overthinking it. They stand up, return to their own bed.]

Lies and slander. I refuse to have my reputation besmirched so openly. I'm going to bed, or a reasonably sleepless facsimile thereof.

[determinedest]

Whatever you say, partner.

[But Frisk's smile definitely solidifies as they eat the slice of Butterscotch Pie.]