"I understand. I wish the same." Gaster taps his fingers together, staring at nothing very much, before suddenly looking back to Frisk. "Is it strange, for your determination to render you unable to do something? You can't be given what you already have, after all..."

He's interrupted in his musings by the lines starting to push their way out - not just on Frisk's side, but his. Gaster swats his hand sharply against the screen, letting out a loud, staticky hiss. The lines retreat, slinking back into their proper place like a chastised cat. He brushes Frisk aside to do the same to their side, before stepping back to regard the console as a whole.

"Everything is getting restless, now. Not just us. Well." He sighs, looking to his assistant. "There is only one fix for that, now, isn't there?"

He reaches forward to press the button for the intercom in the next room. The words Gaster says next are...clearer, somehow, lacking even the undertone of static. The words also don't quite match up to the movement of his mouth, even if they're definitely said in his voice.

"I know we have very little choice, and I know you already know this, but Sans...our experiments with determination infusion have only been marginally successful in the past. Even though we have a better grasp on how to do this now...I'll ask you again, are you sure?"

There's a thoughtful silence from the other side, that's at last broken when Sans looks over to them.

"i'm sure that you guys are stalling."