This is a familiar sort of unhappiness. Lucas knows the feeling immediately, like an old bruise, as unintelligible computer screens drift past and strange sounds filter through ventilation fans. He remembers this feeling very well--and yet he's...not so sure if he remembers this place necessarily. He doesn't know where this is. Or does he?

Frisk doesn't so much as hesitate, even halfway to tears, and Lucas has to shake the distraction out of his thoughts to hasten his pace a little just to keep up beside them. They're moving right towards the terrible familiar-but-very-not-familiar sounds, he notes vaguely--but he's not sure if he'd turn back anyway, even if he could. In places like this, you can't--you can't just leave...

But the dread sets in anyway, cold and heavy on his limbs. Lucas looks over to Frisk, since they're the only thing he can really see properly in the darkness. "Frisk, what are we going to do?"