'Catapulted into space by, like, some highly specialised trebuchet or something' is, admittedly, a fantasy Chara has indulged in on occasion. Often it features the sun as a target.

Busy. "A sad dearth of things to smash in the vicinity has left me extremely unbusy as of now." I.e. they've run out and have been successfully distracted from looking for more.

They hop up to sit on the indictated seat, legs folded and arms in their lap and they lean back as they look out the window, warm golden sunlight spilling on them. Ordinarily they'd be sleeping at this time, in a place much like this, but sleep isn't coming. No matter how tired they feel right now.

"Who would I tell?"

That means yes in Charaspeak, but it is a sad fact in their Frisk's opinion that since Kubo seems to have left, the only person in the castle they're on somewhat good terms with is this Frisk. Chara props their chin on their uninjured hand, still staring out as they speak.

"Do you ever feel," they start conversationally. "That you would like to find whatever is responsible for these transformations and rip it to shreds?"

Because boy, they sure do!