The lights in the elevator flicker a little, and dim, but not before Lucas notices the burn Frisk acquires on their palms--the scent of heated metal is hard to ignore all by itself anyway. He wants to scoot a little closer, to be reassuring, but the baseball bat is suddenly an impossibly heavy weight between them, immovable against his shoe. So Lucas sighs quietly, tilting his head back against the elevator wall behind them instead.

"Yeah," he mumbles--or was that out loud? He's not sure if Frisk even said anything, either, but he already knows what they would say anyway. They're really such a kind kid. A kind friend. "...I'm glad you're here. I can't--can't make it through this building without friends. I'm not strong enough by myself...and I left the others behind."

The pause is a moment, but it feels long and slow. "Don't feel bad. I never told you about him, because, I hope he never comes to the castle. I don't want him to." The elevator's hum really is getting so loud...and his voice feels like it's getting swallowed in the process. Lucas wonders if Frisk will even hear it. (He hopes they can.) "We're going to have to fight the commander eventually, though. ...Always have to. That's--how it is..."

He frowns down at Frisk's shoes. "Don't let yourself get rooted to the ground." He peers at their hand, too. "Does that burn hurt a lot?"