Sparks--well, sparks a flashing warning across his fur. This...metal human's voice completely shatters the garden's quiet.

Frisk's reflexive expectation for attack means they miss the bit of name coming from his lips, at least for the moment. They draw themselves up (they're not that tall, sorry kid) and cross their arms tightly across their chest.

They don't miss all of his words, and it sounds important enough they decide to wait a turn before seeing if they can drive him off, or even need to.

"Castle? King..." what'd Papyrus call him? "Dreemurr's?"