[Mettaton gives in to the momentary flash of surprise that overcomes his smug smile when he recognizes Hank's voice. His attention darts to the side of the stage, his voice taking on its smoother, lighter quality as he speaks away from the mic.]
Hank? What...
[What is he doing here? He focuses on that for only a moment before he processes what he's saying; he registers it as unsolicited advice to dissuade him from making a bold statement here on this stage. Instead of taking it to heart as any grave matter, Mettaton goes back to smiling and brings that mic back, dauntless. Hank has involved himself in Mettaton's antics, so he'll have to take it in stride. He plants his free hand on his hip, shifting his weight onto one leg.]
What better way to support a friend... than through such expletive-laden expressions of "encouragement?" Thank you for showing up, darling! Now, I know what you're all thinking. Though he doesn't look like the type I'd associate with, appearances aren't always everything! WOULD THAT WE COULD ALL AIM FOR HIS LEVEL OF AUDACITY. [Mettaton's smile only grows at the sound of his own remarks, and he laughs behind a coquettish hand.] BUT WE CAN ALL FIND A LITTLE HUMOR IN THE UNEXPECTED! JUST AS WE CAN FIND THRILL IN AN UNEXPECTEDLY CHARMING HOST.
[Well... at least Hank flashing his badge is keeping the unprepared staff from launching into calling help on their own, even though one of them holds his phone at the ready. The guy holding equipment has moved to tell his cohorts that "somebody with a badge" is here to take care of this problem, which placates them into standing by for now.]
[And of course the asshole calls the crowd's attention to him. Hank's jaw is tight, his expression's a mix of anger and embarrassment, and he tries to ignore all the people and just focus on getting this fucking robot off the stage.]
What do you think you're gonna get out of this? These guys aren't here for you, they're not gonna buy your fucking album.
[It's not like he can explain outright, especially not now that everyone's paying attention to him, too. He's still hissing like he's trying not to be noticed but he's aware of them, aware of the fact that talking about how this is another dimension from whichever one Mettaton probably thinks he's in is a no-no. Maybe there's something he can say, play along with Mettaton a little, but convincing this guy not to fuck up isn't one of his favorite memories from that place, that stupid dream place that he can have an existential crisis about later. Which of course means that's the memory he gets to relive here in the real world. Cool. Great. This is exactly what he needed this morning.]
WELL OF COURSE THEY'RE NOT. [He rolls his visible eye.] IT HASN'T BEEN RELEASED YET!! THIS IS BUT A SMALL-SCALE PREVIEW FOR SOMETHING MUCH GREATER: MY FUTURE DEBUT!
[In his weird mind, this was going over well until Hank came along. He's recovered from it in the best way he can, but even Mettaton possesses the self-awareness to take notice of a few staff members looking on in dumbfounded confusion. He's confident enough in himself not to feel like there's anything to worry about, but with this interruption on top of this being so impromptu, Mettaton makes the call to turn this into a surprise drop-in. Like an exclusive heads-up for his existence, since he's just that stunning and all.
He'd like to know what Hank's doing here, anyway. MTT makes a show of checking his wrist and gasping. He's not wearing a watch.]
OOOH. WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE TIME! UNFORTUNATELY, IT'S TIME FOR YOUR OTHER PERFORMANCE! WHICH IS SURE TO BE SPLENDID. I HATE TO LEAVE YOU JUST AS WE WERE GETTING ACQUAINTED. WHAT A SHAME. BUT DON'T FRET! YOU WON'T HAVE TO GO ON WITHOUT ME FOR LONG! UNTIL NEXT TIME, DARLINGS...!
[Whether he's still under Astoria's power or not, at the very least Mettaton notices that his innate magical abilities have returned to him. To make a mysterious but memorable getaway, Mettaton creates a harmless but showy burst of smoke that swallows the stage with the point of his finger, accompanied by... sparkles. It's magic. He can do what he wants with it. He bolts off stage and grabs Hank by the wrist, dragging him off before anybody can see where he's gone off to.
He lets go once he can tell that Hank's taken the cue that he's moving away from the park.]
Did you really have to drop by to interrupt me like that...? Not to say I'm not shocked to see you here. I am! But.
[He runs a hand over his face, muttering for a second to himself.]
My own hallucination, shocked to see me.
Okay. Do you even fuckin- do you know where you are?
[Once Mettaton lets go of his hand he slows down. He probably won't remember they need to keep walking until some of the guys who were working that concert start to go looking for them.]
I believe that you'd hallucinate me, but I'm not hallucination, Hank-darling.
[He offers him a cocky grin before moving on.]
Let's see. Originally, I knew it: this is the Surface, of course! But then you showed up...
[Mettaton doesn't mind that Hank's slowed, since he's not in any state of urgency, either. He turns to face him, gesturing back to the stage which gradually clears of smoke. He grows more thoughtful, piecing this together as he talks.]
As you witnessed, Astoria's not limiting my powers, which is why I thought I'd returned home. But I'm beginning to wonder. Is this a new world she's sent us off to? Already?
[Hank looks pained. Sympathetic, maybe, even. He raises his bare wrist pointedly where Mettaton can see - no watch. No Astoria.]
I don't know what surface you're talking about, but this is Detroit. This is, uh- my home, I guess.
[It was less weird talking about the whole city like that when he was waiting to get sent back, when he wasn't in the middle of it. Then something occurs to him.]
Wait, she didn't send a bunch of you guys, did she? If this is gonna be another- that one where everything got eaten by a black hole or whatever, I uh- I think I've gotta take some time off work.
[Mettaton glances at his own wrist, prompted by Hank's demonstration. He doesn't normally feel the thing very well, so he pardons himself for not having noticed. But it's certainly gone. He rubs at his wrist thoughtfully.]
That's odd. I haven't seen any familiar faces but your own, beautiful... Not that I know what black hole you're referring to. But who knows. You might be onto something! Better file that request for time off!
[Still, the lack of a watch is a concern. Mettaton glances around at the tall buildings, drinking it in with the new knowledge that this isn't necessarily the Surface he imagined. And if it's Hank's world...]
Or maybe it was just a mistake, sending me here. Ha... I've heard she makes those now and then. And on large scales, at that. [Enough to accidentally... send him to a world that isn't his own? Apparently that's possible — if he's standing here, there's no questioning that.] How does it go? That she "loses connection" with us. Perhaps there was some kind of accident...
[Looking at passersby takes on a new dimension. These aren't the humans who he'd anticipate having any history with monsterkind, like those on the Surface. Instead, they must be humans that, like Hank, have some experience with androids that would inevitably color their view of them. A history he's not entirely caught up on, he realizes. His understanding of Hank's history is only so deep.
He looks over his shoulder. The coordinators are still on the outskirts of the small-time performance after doing damage control, watching warily at what they think is Hank "dealing" with the amateurish android.]
Detroit, huh. It really bears some resemblance to the Surface... [In movies, anyway. He's never been there.]
The surface of what? You live underground or something?
[He sounds distracted when he says it, looking at the guys back there looking at them. He grabs for Mettaton's arm, meaning to start walking and pulling him along behind him.]
Come on, they've got to think I'm taking you somewhere, and I don't have my car.
[But it's not like he doesn't feel bad for the guy. Stranded somewhere that's not home isn't a feeling he can really relate to but he can imagine it, and for a second his expression scrunches up with something that's either sympathy or guilt.]
We'll... we'll work on getting you home, okay? [Somehow.] But you kinda came at a bad time, there's a lot of shit going down right now. So I'd keep my head down if I were you.
[He says that last part pointedly, raising his eyebrows.]]
No more concerts or... whatever the fuck you were doing.
[Mettaton starts when Hank grabs him and stumbles after him, recovering his posture and blinking down at the other man. It's all he can do to both listen and take another good look around. He drinks in the sight of tall buildings, crisp cool skies, and lots and lots of humans while processing bad time and a lot of shit and keep my head down.
The android tries to wriggle his arm free of Hank's grasp with a self-assured smile.]
You KNOW saying those kinds of things will only entice me to put myself out there some more. That's how it works, darling.
[He snorts, still not taking this situation very seriously.]
But, all right. I'll entertain this notion. What sort of bad time is so severe that I can't spend my time making my mark... while I await a solution to get me to my rightful home?
[Hank lets go of Mettaton's arm very slowly and with a look of deep suspicion. The guy's the noodliest android Hank's ever seen and he could probably squirm free if Hank tries to grab him again, and Hank really needs to keep him close - but he's not mad enough to try dragging Mettaton behind him, and it feels like kind of a dick move. The suspicious look sticks around a couple seconds - telling Mettaton not to do something only encourages him to do it, apparently, because he's that kind of idiot - but it fades a little when Hank starts focusing on where he's walking again.]
The kind of bad that's gonna get you turned into a pile of scrap.
[A woman stares at Mettaton as she passes them. Really stares, and Hank on one level can't really blame her because Mettaton is so, so weird, but he gives her a big fuck you smile and she turns away again.]
Androids who wanna 'put themselves out there' aren't something people want right now. We've got too much of that. I should find you a news pad or something, get you caught up...
[He trails off, caught up in thoughts about all the fucking trouble Mettaton being here is going to be, and mutters to himself, running a hand through his hair.]
You don't even look like a normal android so we can't even hide you, or... fuck.
What kind of mark is it you wanna make? I guess it's not the kind where I could keep you holed up in my house with a bunch of fingerpaints and trust you to stay put, huh?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Hank? What...
[What is he doing here? He focuses on that for only a moment before he processes what he's saying; he registers it as unsolicited advice to dissuade him from making a bold statement here on this stage. Instead of taking it to heart as any grave matter, Mettaton goes back to smiling and brings that mic back, dauntless. Hank has involved himself in Mettaton's antics, so he'll have to take it in stride. He plants his free hand on his hip, shifting his weight onto one leg.]
What better way to support a friend... than through such expletive-laden expressions of "encouragement?" Thank you for showing up, darling! Now, I know what you're all thinking. Though he doesn't look like the type I'd associate with, appearances aren't always everything! WOULD THAT WE COULD ALL AIM FOR HIS LEVEL OF AUDACITY. [Mettaton's smile only grows at the sound of his own remarks, and he laughs behind a coquettish hand.] BUT WE CAN ALL FIND A LITTLE HUMOR IN THE UNEXPECTED! JUST AS WE CAN FIND THRILL IN AN UNEXPECTEDLY CHARMING HOST.
[Well... at least Hank flashing his badge is keeping the unprepared staff from launching into calling help on their own, even though one of them holds his phone at the ready. The guy holding equipment has moved to tell his cohorts that "somebody with a badge" is here to take care of this problem, which placates them into standing by for now.]
no subject
What do you think you're gonna get out of this? These guys aren't here for you, they're not gonna buy your fucking album.
[It's not like he can explain outright, especially not now that everyone's paying attention to him, too. He's still hissing like he's trying not to be noticed but he's aware of them, aware of the fact that talking about how this is another dimension from whichever one Mettaton probably thinks he's in is a no-no. Maybe there's something he can say, play along with Mettaton a little, but convincing this guy not to fuck up isn't one of his favorite memories from that place, that stupid dream place that he can have an existential crisis about later. Which of course means that's the memory he gets to relive here in the real world. Cool. Great. This is exactly what he needed this morning.]
no subject
[In his weird mind, this was going over well until Hank came along. He's recovered from it in the best way he can, but even Mettaton possesses the self-awareness to take notice of a few staff members looking on in dumbfounded confusion. He's confident enough in himself not to feel like there's anything to worry about, but with this interruption on top of this being so impromptu, Mettaton makes the call to turn this into a surprise drop-in. Like an exclusive heads-up for his existence, since he's just that stunning and all.
He'd like to know what Hank's doing here, anyway. MTT makes a show of checking his wrist and gasping. He's not wearing a watch.]
OOOH. WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE TIME! UNFORTUNATELY, IT'S TIME FOR YOUR OTHER PERFORMANCE! WHICH IS SURE TO BE SPLENDID. I HATE TO LEAVE YOU JUST AS WE WERE GETTING ACQUAINTED. WHAT A SHAME. BUT DON'T FRET! YOU WON'T HAVE TO GO ON WITHOUT ME FOR LONG! UNTIL NEXT TIME, DARLINGS...!
[Whether he's still under Astoria's power or not, at the very least Mettaton notices that his innate magical abilities have returned to him. To make a mysterious but memorable getaway, Mettaton creates a harmless but showy burst of smoke that swallows the stage with the point of his finger, accompanied by... sparkles. It's magic. He can do what he wants with it. He bolts off stage and grabs Hank by the wrist, dragging him off before anybody can see where he's gone off to.
He lets go once he can tell that Hank's taken the cue that he's moving away from the park.]
Did you really have to drop by to interrupt me like that...? Not to say I'm not shocked to see you here. I am! But.
no subject
[He runs a hand over his face, muttering for a second to himself.]
My own hallucination, shocked to see me.
Okay. Do you even fuckin- do you know where you are?
[Once Mettaton lets go of his hand he slows down. He probably won't remember they need to keep walking until some of the guys who were working that concert start to go looking for them.]
no subject
[He offers him a cocky grin before moving on.]
Let's see. Originally, I knew it: this is the Surface, of course! But then you showed up...
[Mettaton doesn't mind that Hank's slowed, since he's not in any state of urgency, either. He turns to face him, gesturing back to the stage which gradually clears of smoke. He grows more thoughtful, piecing this together as he talks.]
As you witnessed, Astoria's not limiting my powers, which is why I thought I'd returned home. But I'm beginning to wonder. Is this a new world she's sent us off to? Already?
[He has no idea.]
no subject
I don't know what surface you're talking about, but this is Detroit. This is, uh- my home, I guess.
[It was less weird talking about the whole city like that when he was waiting to get sent back, when he wasn't in the middle of it. Then something occurs to him.]
Wait, she didn't send a bunch of you guys, did she? If this is gonna be another- that one where everything got eaten by a black hole or whatever, I uh- I think I've gotta take some time off work.
no subject
That's odd. I haven't seen any familiar faces but your own, beautiful... Not that I know what black hole you're referring to. But who knows. You might be onto something! Better file that request for time off!
[Still, the lack of a watch is a concern. Mettaton glances around at the tall buildings, drinking it in with the new knowledge that this isn't necessarily the Surface he imagined. And if it's Hank's world...]
Or maybe it was just a mistake, sending me here. Ha... I've heard she makes those now and then. And on large scales, at that. [Enough to accidentally... send him to a world that isn't his own? Apparently that's possible — if he's standing here, there's no questioning that.] How does it go? That she "loses connection" with us. Perhaps there was some kind of accident...
[Looking at passersby takes on a new dimension. These aren't the humans who he'd anticipate having any history with monsterkind, like those on the Surface. Instead, they must be humans that, like Hank, have some experience with androids that would inevitably color their view of them. A history he's not entirely caught up on, he realizes. His understanding of Hank's history is only so deep.
He looks over his shoulder. The coordinators are still on the outskirts of the small-time performance after doing damage control, watching warily at what they think is Hank "dealing" with the amateurish android.]
Detroit, huh. It really bears some resemblance to the Surface... [In movies, anyway. He's never been there.]
no subject
[He sounds distracted when he says it, looking at the guys back there looking at them. He grabs for Mettaton's arm, meaning to start walking and pulling him along behind him.]
Come on, they've got to think I'm taking you somewhere, and I don't have my car.
[But it's not like he doesn't feel bad for the guy. Stranded somewhere that's not home isn't a feeling he can really relate to but he can imagine it, and for a second his expression scrunches up with something that's either sympathy or guilt.]
We'll... we'll work on getting you home, okay? [Somehow.] But you kinda came at a bad time, there's a lot of shit going down right now. So I'd keep my head down if I were you.
[He says that last part pointedly, raising his eyebrows.]]
No more concerts or... whatever the fuck you were doing.
no subject
The android tries to wriggle his arm free of Hank's grasp with a self-assured smile.]
You KNOW saying those kinds of things will only entice me to put myself out there some more. That's how it works, darling.
[He snorts, still not taking this situation very seriously.]
But, all right. I'll entertain this notion. What sort of bad time is so severe that I can't spend my time making my mark... while I await a solution to get me to my rightful home?
no subject
The kind of bad that's gonna get you turned into a pile of scrap.
[A woman stares at Mettaton as she passes them. Really stares, and Hank on one level can't really blame her because Mettaton is so, so weird, but he gives her a big fuck you smile and she turns away again.]
Androids who wanna 'put themselves out there' aren't something people want right now. We've got too much of that. I should find you a news pad or something, get you caught up...
[He trails off, caught up in thoughts about all the fucking trouble Mettaton being here is going to be, and mutters to himself, running a hand through his hair.]
You don't even look like a normal android so we can't even hide you, or... fuck.
What kind of mark is it you wanna make? I guess it's not the kind where I could keep you holed up in my house with a bunch of fingerpaints and trust you to stay put, huh?