Chara's cheeks aren't quite as red, but just a shade more inflorescent than usual and their face does something, splits, they don't know - that rarest of things, a genuine smile, crooked and distorted by lack of practice and the unconscious desire to keep something usually twisted into a weapon away from the other.
They have no idea what they're even feeling right now, but it isn't bad. Not bad at all, shades and flavours of a similar thing intermingling with their Frisk's like watercolours, reinforcing it and giving it a sort of giddy staying power.
They lower their hands and mock-bow complete with twirl of hands, and there's a similar half-laugh squeak in the back of the mind.
"We'll be here all week."
They'll be here all forseeable-future. They prop their chin on a hand, and relay - "Frisk says that maybe we should start a band. An acapella." The birthday-Frisk is absolutely included in that.
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They have no idea what they're even feeling right now, but it isn't bad. Not bad at all, shades and flavours of a similar thing intermingling with their Frisk's like watercolours, reinforcing it and giving it a sort of giddy staying power.
They lower their hands and mock-bow complete with twirl of hands, and there's a similar half-laugh squeak in the back of the mind.
"We'll be here all week."
They'll be here all forseeable-future. They prop their chin on a hand, and relay - "Frisk says that maybe we should start a band. An acapella." The birthday-Frisk is absolutely included in that.