[He lifts a phalanx, his tone never deviating from its amiable done. The pinpricks of light in his eyesockets, however, seem to have locked onto Carlisle with an atypical, narrow focus.]

First of all - I'm a monster, not an undead. We've covered this. Secondly - their name's Frisk, and I think you'd be surprised.

[Might not be magic in the conventional sense, but it certainly is a sorta power, and that might translate into glyph-crafting. And god knows the kid could use a break, for once in their life.

Speakin' of which.

He drops his gaze to the kid in question, on account of - they're bein' real quiet. They said they would, and they usually are, but it pays to check. To ask 'em instead of makin' the assumptions he seems to be so good at making.]

You doin' all right?