Frisk straightens up, letting their hand drop. He seems to be doing better at it than they are.

"You know where it is?" they ask Sans-Serif. "I can never really find it. I think it moves for me more than anyone else." Which is a little annoying. They're getting increasingly sick of fruit and cakes.

Which reminds them to tell Duchess-- "There's the gardens, too. Lots of fresh air, and I think the birds that get into the trees there are...not...as excited as the ones in the tower."