"Um." Frisk feels the grossness of the dust layered over their skin and starts scrubbing it off as they sit up.

What happened? This isn't...somebody's dust, is it? Except when they look around, the dust is everywhere, not just on them or a little bit. Unless somebody exploded.

They know where they are. They're in their room. And so is this stranger. "Who're you?" they ask instead of answering, barely looking up.