"Oh. That one's alright." The one that's younger, too, and a Sans' dad.

Frisk presses down on a key. Then another, and another, slowly and only with their fingertips. Looks sort of like they're tiny walking legs.

"Me too. 'M glad he's here. And," straightforwardly, "you too." Even if they don't know exactly where and what Chara's from, or Chara's own thoughts on it, they're one-hundred percent confident the castle's better for them.

And it's easier to concentrate on the Chara in front of them than remember what happened when a part of Serif went back with his brother.

Frisk mirrors their headtilt. They don't realize how odd their own phrasing was.