Mettaton still isn't scared, but given the tone of the situation, he is apprehensive. The wind is...unnatural. Eerie.
Cold.
But he doesn't flinch. Instead, a small crackle of electricity moves along his fingers, visible in the encroaching darkness which surrounded them both, but mostly it was him, wasn't it? The penalty was not on the winner, right, but the loser.
For a brief moment, he recalls shocking a small human child, threatening them with insane pyrotechnics and tile puzzles. He remembers what happens to those that lose, and the price they pay, and his apprehension grows. Because when did a simple card game become something so dire?
"It will be your problem soon," he hisses, and again, the small bolts dance across his gloves, conducting along his segmented arms. It's as good a threat as any. "Do not mistake me for someone who goes down easy. Let's hope, for your sake, that you can back up those silly little words of yours."
no subject
Cold.
But he doesn't flinch. Instead, a small crackle of electricity moves along his fingers, visible in the encroaching darkness which surrounded them both, but mostly it was him, wasn't it? The penalty was not on the winner, right, but the loser.
For a brief moment, he recalls shocking a small human child, threatening them with insane pyrotechnics and tile puzzles. He remembers what happens to those that lose, and the price they pay, and his apprehension grows. Because when did a simple card game become something so dire?
"It will be your problem soon," he hisses, and again, the small bolts dance across his gloves, conducting along his segmented arms. It's as good a threat as any. "Do not mistake me for someone who goes down easy. Let's hope, for your sake, that you can back up those silly little words of yours."