Chara's gone before they can call down what they actually meant. Then again, having them come up is probably better than keeping them standing down there. At least there's heat leaking out of the doorway and brushing over them here, unlike the chill blanketing all the gardens.

They'll find Frisk leaning against the edge of the balcony, backwards, supported by their own elbows.

"Hi 'gain, Chara," they greet, back to their usual softness. "D'you have any favorite songs?"