Mettaton catches that touch to his cheek. Well, well. Something to think about later.

But for now: "You can't, and I don't want to." He grimaces. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. As long as the food isn't edible by the end of the party, I don't think the castle cares."

He looks slowly about the room. "I suppose we could always have a food fight. I can think of a few worthy targets."

Like the false Mettaton lying on the table over there. Ugh.