Mettaton was definitely going to take a private jet the next time he traveled anywhere.

None of the plane trips had really been what he would call a disaster, but plenty of things had gone sour. The first-class seats were comfy, but still more cramped than the robot would have liked. He wasn’t used to moving around so little, so his joints stuck and he was filled with a nervous physical energy he couldn’t get rid of. The food wasn’t very good for the most part, so he’d foregone it a fair bit, which drained his magical energy. He never really cared for any of the movie options they had. The charging ports weren’t equipped to charge much more than a laptop computer, so he was often forced to go into sleep mode most of the flight to save his battery. At one point, a mistake had been made with his team’s tickets, and they’d all had to sit in economy class, where it turned out the air conditioning wasn’t working right. That had been an extremely uncomfortable night flight for all of them.

And then there were the fangirls.

The fangirls never seemed to stop coming. Everywhere he went, Mettaton was inundated with people asking for his autograph, wanting a hug, taking pictures and videos, talking to him. Of course, he didn’t actually mind that for the most part; he knew full well he never would’ve achieved his dreams of becoming a star without his fans. He loved to interact with them and make them happy.

But there came a point where even Mettaton grew weary of the constant rushing and chattering and begging.

He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that their flight from Los Angeles had been put off for five hours because of mechanical troubles on the plane. On the one hand, they’d gotten back to Auckland Airport at nearly one in the morning, which meant that most people on the flight were too tired to notice that Mettaton was on the plane with them, which in turn meant he didn’t have to deal with anyone. On the other hand, one in the morning was such an ungodly time to be awake when you had to be at work at 7 A.M., just another six hours away.

Mettaton yawned widely as he and his team exited the gate. He beckoned them all aside before they met their families and went to the baggage claim area.

“Alright, everyone, I know it’s been a long four months, but things go back to normal tomorrow. I expect to see you all at work, 7 o’clock sharp, as usual,” he said, trying to look firm and perhaps a bit intimidating.

Unfortunately, it was a little hard to look intimidating when you hadn’t had a good sleep for almost twenty-four hours and had smudged makeup and mussed hair from napping. Everyone groaned openly, physically unable to care what their boss would think at that point.

“Mettaton, sir, you have to be joking. We haven’t seen our families in four months!” Lily, his hairdresser, protested.

“We can’t possibly work on less than six hours of sleep.” His personal assistant and secretary, Whetu, looked as though she might cry.

Mettaton rubbed his temples; he felt as though he were developing a headache. Could he even do that? Don’t change your mind, don’t relent, you have to go in tomorrow, he reminded himself. He had to do paperwork, he had to look at his budget now that his tour was over, he had to schedule new events—

But really, who said he had to do all of that tomorrow? It wasn’t like it was filming, which was difficult to postpone. Paperwork could wait.

“You know what, forget it. We’re all taking the day off tomorrow—uh, today. I’ll put in a call or something when I get home,” Mettaton decided. “Get some rest, I’ll expect to see you all—well, I guess I’ll see you all Monday since it’s Friday and most of you don’t work weekends. 7 A.M. sharp, and don’t any of you forget it.”

“But Mettaton, sir…”

“What, Burgerpants?” the robot snapped.

“Who’s going to cover my shift in the food court? They’ll expect me to be there—”

“Yes, Glosmer is not going to be happy if we’re all missing when we said we’d be working,” Whetu butted in.

“Well, Burgerpants, I’d assume the same person who’s been covering you for the past four months would also cover you tomorrow! Come on, use your brain, it must be good for something,” Mettaton responded scathingly. “And I said I would make a call for the rest of you! For heaven’s sake, I just gave you all the free vacation day you just asked for, and now you’re whining!”

Burgerpants, Whetu, and the rest of the team shuffled their feet and avoided Mettaton’s eyes.

“Mettaton… I think you should maybe calm down a little bit. They’re just tired and worried…” a soft voice sounded from Mettaton’s side.

He sighed, regretting his attitude a little. “I know, Blooky, you’re right.” He gave a small smile to his ghostly cousin before turning back to his team. “Look, none of you have to worry about anything. I’ll take care of it all. Glosmer will have to listen to me. We all worked hard over the past few months and we deserve a break. After all, we can’t do our best work when we have so little energy.” He flashed what he hoped was a dazzling, encouraging smile. “So not another word! Let’s go meet our families and get our bags. It’s way too late to be standing around arguing like this anymore.”

The group broke up slowly, the members murmuring amongst themselves. Mettaton was too tired to care what they might be talking about. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes for a few minutes as everyone but Napstablook and their tiny fish monster friend Shyren left the waiting area. “Sorry, guys, I just—I need a second. I think my battery might be a bit low.” He did a quick check and was shocked to find that it was at about 71%. This definitely wasn’t physical fatigue he was feeling.

Well, he couldn’t dwell on it. He straightened and hefted his carry-on bag. “Come on, you two. We’re dropping you off at your home first, right, Shyren?”

The three of them headed into the waiting area. The emptiness of the building, the darkness outside the windows, and the echo of Mettaton’s footsteps gave the robot a very eerie feeling. Where was Alphys? She wouldn’t have gone home without them, would she?

A loud creak made all three monsters jump. In his panic, Mettaton nearly went into his NEO form. As it was, he prepared a couple of attacks. “Who’s there?!” he demanded, aiming at a dark figure exiting the ladies’ restroom. “Get out here!”

A short yellow lizard monster came into the light and threw up her hands. “Mettaton, it’s me! Don’t attack!”

Mettaton’s attacks disappeared immediately. “Alphys!” He rushed forth and grabbed her up in a giant bear hug.

Alphys wheezed, barely able to breathe. “I’m r-really happy to see you too, Mettaton, b-but you should let go soon if I’m gonna d-drive home!”

Mettaton set her back down. “Sorry, Alphie, I’ve just missed you so much. I can’t wait to get home. Honestly, I’d almost like to watch an anime with you just so we can catch up.”

“Y-yeah, well, not tonight. It’s already past 1 A.M. God, your flight got in late. You’re lucky I didn’t fall asleep on the way here,” Alphys yawned as the four monsters made their way over to the baggage claim area. Within ten minutes they’d gathered all their luggage and were trying to find Alphys’s car in the parking garage.

“Damn it, which floor was I on…? You know what.” Alphys pulled out her keys and hit the panic button. A loud honking sounded at least one floor up. Mettaton and Alphys sighed simultaneously before heading for the stairs.

Soon they’d found the car, thrown their luggage in the back, and begun the half-hour drive home. Mettaton had called shotgun. Napstablook and Shyren cuddled in the back, dropping off to sleep. Mettaton felt himself nodding off.

Alphys noticed. “Geez, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this tired.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this tired.” Mettaton rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand. I checked my battery back at the airport and it was over 70%. I shouldn’t feel like this.”

“I think… ugh, you’re gonna hate me for saying this. I-I think you need to take a break, Mettaton. A long break. You’ve been overworking yourself, and after such a long trip, it’s finally showing,” Alphys said quietly. “It’s time to stop—”

“Stop?” Mettaton interrupted incredulously, now wide awake. “You must be joking, Alphys. How could I just stop being a star? It’s my life’s dream! It’s all I ever wanted! And my fans would just die without me. I can’t stop.”

“Y-you didn’t let me finish!” Alphys stuttered, gripping the steering wheel of the car more tightly. “I don’t think you need to stop c-completely. I said take a break. Slow down. Enjoy life a little, for your own s-sake. This tiredness you’re feeling—it’s not your body, it’s emotional. Mental. P-probably magical. And most likely it will eventually affect how well your body works,” she added, knowing how much Mettaton cared about that. “I know it’ll be hard at first, but… trust me. You’ll thank me later.”

“Look, Alphys, I know my limits. I’m not overworking myself. I mean, okay, maybe this trip was a little much. But I’m working just the right amount to make me happy otherwise,” Mettaton protested.

“You literally work seven days a week.”

“Saturdays and Sundays are half-days.”

“Th-that still counts! And when you’re at home, I’m always f-finding you on the phone talking to your agents and scheduling things, or working on your new songs, or planning other things. You literally never give yourself time to have fun.”

“My work is fun. I don’t need anything else.”

“Well then—” Alphys was getting angry. “M-maybe consider that your family and friends need you. I hardly ever get to see you. Frisk almost never gets to see you offscreen unless they go visit your workplace. And when was the last time you had a conversation with Napstablook that wasn’t about work? It’s like you’re completely ignoring us, M-Mettaton. Don’t you r-remember the last time you did that?” she lashed out.

Mettaton’s chest felt hot with disgust and shame. Part of him wanted to ask how she dared bring that up, but the rest of him knew she was right. He was making his past mistakes all over again. He swallowed hard before answering. “I know.”

They were silent for a few moments. Alphys kept her eyes on the road, and Mettaton stared out his window.

“I’m sorry.”

He looked back her.

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have s-said that, I know you feel bad about—w-what happened.” Alphys looked like she wanted to cry.

“No—no, Alphie, dear. Please don’t feel bad,” Mettaton tried to comfort her. “You—you’re right. I really don’t want… I don’t want to abandon you or anyone else again. But I just…” He ran his hands through his hair nervously. “Whenever I’m not working, or just not busy—I start thinking, and I just… feel bad.” He thought that sounded a bit flimsy, but Alphys seemed to understand.

“No, I-I get it. I feel the same way,” she replied softly. “But i-i-it’s still important to give yourself time to rest. Maybe if you spent some time with Frisk and the rest of us, you could take a break and not have to think about anything that makes you feel bad.”

Mettaton drew his legs up and leaned against his window. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’d really rather stop talking about this. I’m too tired to think about it anymore.”

“…okay.”

More silence. Then Mettaton sighed. “Well, just one more thing, and then I’m doing talking about it. I guess you’ll be happy to know that I am giving myself and the team the day off tomorrow. Just tomorrow, though. I will be going back Saturday. And everyone else will return when they have to.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s a start.” Alphys tried to sound encouraging.

“Don’t let me forget to write an email to Glosmer when we get home. He’ll have my entire team’s heads if I don’t try to let him know we won’t be there.”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Glosmer? I-is he your boss or s-something?” Alphys stuttered, trying to make small talk to make things less awkward.

“He’s one of the executives at the film studio. So sort of, I guess.”

“Oh. Cool. S-so, um, anyway… how was that whole tour? Pretty exciting, I guess?”

“Oh, yes. We worked hard and everyone seemed to love us. We saw a lot of nice things and met a lot of nice people, too.” Mettaton pulled the lever to recline his seat. “I’m sorry, Alphie, but I really can’t think right now. All I want to do is charge up and sleep.”

“Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Neither of them said another word until they dropped Shyren off at her house with her sister in Mount Roskill, where they said goodbye to her.

Another fifteen minutes and they finally arrived at their apartment complex. They all hauled Mettaton and Napstablook’s luggage into an elevator and took it to the top floor, where they shared a luxury penthouse. Mettaton threw all his bags on the floor beside the door after Alphys unlocked it, too exhausted to even think of beginning to unpack. He took a few minutes to send an email to the executive on his phone, then murmured a good night to Alphys and his cousin.

He stumbled to his bedroom and collapsed on the bed, not bothering to plug himself in before falling asleep.

Ω

When Mettaton woke, it was nearly two in the afternoon. He stared at his bedside clock uncomprehendingly, not used to being in bed and feeling so relaxed so late in the day. Oddly enough, he didn’t really want to get up.

Eventually, however, he had to listen to his growling stomach—Alphys had programmed it so that it rumbled when his soul needed sustenance, much like a human stomach. He tried to get up, only to be pulled back unexpectedly. Mettaton looked down and saw his charging cord stretching from his chest to the wall outlet. He smiled a little. Alphys must have plugged him in while he slept. She was looking out for him.

He looked into his full-size mirror and grimaced. His hair was nearly a rat’s nest and his lipstick and eyeshadow were completely smeared. And now that he thought about it, he felt really stiff and uncomfortable having spent the night sleeping in his shoulder guards and boots. He removed them and his chest plate and gloves and pulled on an old pink T-shirt and pajama shorts. Not really feeling up to wrangling with his hair, he pulled it up into a messy bun.

In the bathroom, he pulled off his face plate and scrubbed off the makeup. Then he had to apply makeup remover to his eyelids. He was extremely careful not to get any liquid on his facial machinery or anywhere else on his body, as it was not waterproof and too much moisture would damage him. The only exception was his mouth, since he had to eat. He sighed impatiently. He really wished Alphys would fix that already. He was tired of always having to wipe himself down to get clean instead of just taking a shower like everyone else.

Reattaching his face plate, Mettaton headed into the kitchen and started hunting down some food. As it turned out, there wasn’t much he liked. He opened a cupboard. Instant ramen. He opened another. More ramen. He checked the pantry. Even more ramen. Was that the extent of Alphys’s diet?

There was one lone box of corn flakes on the top shelf. Mettaton sighed and grabbed it. Then he found a quart of milk in an otherwise empty refrigerator. Good heavens, he thought. I do hope Alphys eats at Undyne’s or orders out sometimes. There’s no way she could survive just on what’s in here.

Mettaton sat on a high chair at the kitchen island and tried to ignore the bland taste and slightly stale crunch of the flakes as he stared out the window at the harbor. He’d never felt so unsure of what to do with himself in his life. He struggled to make a list of things that needed to be done, but the only thing he could come up with was unpacking his suitcases. What could he do for fun, then? Watch television? He wasn’t remotely sure what would appeal to him. Read a book? Reading large blocks of text was difficult after spending so much time just glancing over film scripts. Maybe he should go out and buy some proper groceries? But then he’d have to deal with people, and for once in his life, Mettaton didn’t want to see any people. Besides, he had no idea what “proper groceries” really entailed.

By god, he had to find something to do, or he’d be left with only his thoughts to entertain him, and whenever he started thinking, he always somehow reminded himself of his mistakes in the past, and then he started feeling horrible, and that would either send him into a depression spiral or a bout of panic, and just the thought of either of those things was making him panic a bit, and—

“Oh, hi, Mettaton...”

His cousin’s voice suddenly tore Mettaton out of his imminent breakdown. He choked down his bite of cereal, coughing violently. After a few seconds, he was able to respond, “Blooky! I completely forgot you were here. Ugh, sorry about that, you just startled me.”

“It’s okay... I’m sorry for scaring you... I’m glad you’re finally awake, though.” Napstablook floated above the island awkwardly.

“Yes. I’m sorry about that too. Of course you know I’d normally never sleep this late, but I’ve just felt so weird and tired. But I didn’t get up until almost two today, can you believe that? I can hardly believe it. I just hope I sleep tonight, since I’m going in to work tomorrow,” Mettaton babbled as he dropped his dish in the sink, having had enough of his barely-edible meal. He was incredibly relieved now that he had someone to talk to; now he wouldn’t have to entertain his unsavory thoughts about himself.

“Oh... that’s nice...”

Mettaton remembered Napstablook wasn’t much of a conversationalist.

He bit his lip as he tried to think of something to say. “Well… I have to put away my things from the trip. You probably should too, if you haven’t already. And if you have, maybe you could help me?” he suggested brightly, perhaps a little too much so.

“Okay, yeah... sure, I can help you...”

Mettaton had taken mountains of clothes and makeup and accessories with him on the tour, but it still seemed like only minutes had passed by the time they finished clearing out everything from his suitcases. He dawdled in his walk-in closet, adjusting outfits and brushing off wigs, his mind racing to find some activity or conversation topic. God, Alphys had had good reason to ask him when he’d last had any kind of laid-back talk about something other than work with Napstablook. He had no idea what they liked anymore.

“So, um, Blooky, have you made any new music mixes lately? Besides the ones for work, I mean,” Mettaton asked, leaning against the closet doorframe casually.

“Oh... not really... I mean, I did start one this morning... but it’s no good yet...” Napstablook murmured shyly.

“Nonsense, I’m sure it sounds great already,” Mettaton brushed off their concern. “Why don’t you tell me about it? And honestly, I’d love to watch you create it! You work so hard on the music you do for my shows, and they’re so good. I’m sure learning what you have to do to make it will help me appreciate it even more than I already do.” To someone else, this might have sounded like flattery, but Mettaton meant every word he said. Even if he was just desperate to be distracted.

His words seemed to cheer up Napstablook a fair bit. They led him to their little corner in the living room where they’d set up their computer, DJ table, and personal sound system. For the next hour, the two of them did nothing but discuss Napstablook’s music, how they made it, and what it meant to them. Mettaton had never heard his cousin talk this much, and he hung on to every word with ease. He didn’t look away once until he heard Alphys arrive home from work.

“Mettaton?” she called in a suspicious voice. She obviously hadn’t expected him to actually stay home today.

“In here, darling! Blooky’s been telling me all about their music for a while now.”

“Yeah... he only got up a couple of hours ago...”

Alphys set her work bag down on a coffee table, looking slightly defeated. “W-wow. I can’t believe you really didn’t go in to work.”

Mettaton put on a sugary-sweet smile to annoy her. “Of course not. You really think I don’t keep my promises?”

Alphys blinked. Napstablook looked away. And Mettaton’s stomach dropped as he realized what he’d said unthinkingly. He knew that he’d just ruined his own afternoon with a single sentence. God, I’m such an idiot.

Alphys cleared her throat uncomfortably and tried to change the subject. “W-well, um. I had some free time at work today and I was able to prepare some new software updates for you, Metta. I’ll finish them up here and if you’re up to it, I can install them later.”

“Yes, that sounds lovely. Although what I really need right now is probably some waterproofing,” Mettaton hinted very obviously. “It’s becoming a real pain to have to watch myself so closely around liquids. Honestly, I don’t know how you thought to give me tear ducts and make me able to eat and drink, but not make the rest of me resistant to water.”

“We l-lived in Hotland! Water damage wasn’t exactly a-an issue there,” Alphys defended herself. “And I have been trying. I have a design for an airtight plastic lining that would go over your endoskeleton and circuitry and stuff. I-I just have to figure out how to make it so it doesn’t melt if you get overheated.”

Mettaton draped himself dramatically over the armrest of their couch. “Better hurry it up, dear. Someday we both might regret you not making this body waterproof in the first place.”

“Oh, s-stop being such a drama queen,” Alphys muttered, opening the pantry for a snack. “Just stay out of the rain and stuff and you’ll b-be fine. Do we really only have ramen in here?”

Mettaton raised his eyebrows. “Don’t ask me. I’m not the one who buys it. And I hope to god that’s not been the only thing you’ve been eating this whole time.”

“No! N-no, I actually eat takeout a lot. Napstablook tried to share their ghost food, but my soul didn’t seem to gain any energy from it.”

“Of course not, it’s ghost food.” Mettaton rolled his eyes, but not bad-naturedly. “Honestly, takeout isn’t much better than ramen. And you keep telling me I’m not healthy.”

Alphys spluttered, but she couldn’t get out any coherent words before the doorbell rang. She looked over at Mettaton, who was closer to the door. “G-guess I’ll get it, you’re n-not exactly decent,” she sighed as she made her way over.

Mettaton wrinkled his face at her. “I am too decent, just not fancy,” he retorted in a playfully mocking tone.

Alphys gave him a look, then broke into a slightly exasperated chuckle as she answered the door. She was nearly bowled over as a small speeding blur seemed to embrace her briefly, then bounced off her like a springboard toward Mettaton. Caught completely off guard, Mettaton was bowled over on his back on the couch as the blur hit him. He realized what—or who, really—it was when it latched onto him tightly with both arms and legs.

“Oh, Frisk, darling! Hello, honey, I’m so happy to see you too.” Mettaton hugged the child as tightly as he could without hurting them. “Wow, you’ve, uh, really been working on your grip, haven’t you?”

“Frisk?” Toriel’s head popped in the doorway. “Oh, thank goodness they found their way up here. They just shot off the minute they got out of the car. Sorry if they were a bit overenthusiastic coming in…”

“O-oh, it’s okay, T-Toriel. It’s just good to see them happy again. They’ve b-been kind of down lately,” Alphys stuttered a little, blushing. Mettaton shot her a look, knowing full well what the blush meant. Alphys glared at him furiously, silently threatening him if he said a word.

“Yes, it’s totally fine! I haven’t had a hug this nice in ages. That said, Frisk, dear, you do have to let go eventually.” Mettaton patted their back gently. “Come on, now.”

Frisk released the robot reluctantly, but immediately skipped over to Napstablook and gave them a significantly gentler hug than they had given him. “Oh, hello, Frisk... it’s so nice to see you again, you’re always so kind to me...” Napstablook seemed to smile at them.

Frisk then faced both of the cousins and began to sign. Dinner tomorrow 5.

Mettaton ran over the translation in his head. “Oh—is this a dinner invitation?” he asked, looking at Toriel.

She smiled cheerily. “It is indeed! We’re having all of Frisk’s good friends over at our house. We do it every once in a while. Since you’re home now and you’ve never been to one, we’d love for you to come!” she encouraged. “Usually everyone brings a dish, but you don’t have to worry about that, since you’ve been quite busy.”

“Yes, and I still am. Even if it doesn’t look like it,” Mettaton added, remembering his unusually casual appearance. “I really—” He sighed regretfully. “I honestly don’t know if I’ll be able to make it. I have so much paperwork to catch up on, and I haven’t done anything today. I might have to make it a full day at work tomorrow instead of a half day like usual, and that means I’ll be home too late to come to dinner.”

Frisk looked as though they might cry. Toriel looked rather disappointed herself. But it was Alphys, crossing her arms disapprovingly behind Toriel, that changed his mind.

“Well, you know what, they can stick all that paperwork. It can wait, and if they want to complain, they can stick that, too,” he declared, standing up. “I’ll come to dinner tomorrow. And I’ll even bring something for everyone to enjoy.”

The tension in the room immediately dissipated. “Fantastic! We can’t wait to see you there. My house at 5, although you might want to arrive early.” Toriel was smiling again. “Come on, my child,” she said to Frisk, who was bouncing up and down vigorously. “You need to finish your homework, and then you can spend all day tomorrow and Sunday playing. And Mettaton,” she added, looking back at him, “thank you so much. Frisk really needs this.”

“It’s no problem at all, darling. I can’t wait,” he replied as he embraced Frisk again. “I hope you have a beautiful rest of your day, sweetheart. See you tomorrow.”

Frisk hugged Napstablook and Alphys again, and they and Toriel said goodbye. After they left, Alphys turned to Mettaton. “S-so you’re really going to go?”

He glared at her. “Yes, of course, I said I was!” he huffed. “Why are you always doubting me? Do you really think I’m not trying? I really—I really—” He was too upset to finish, partially because he was frustrated with her lack of faith, and partially because he knew she had good reason for it. He sat on the couch and turned his back to her. Napstablook hovered next to him uncertainly, but in a vaguely comforting manner.

“N-no… no, I-I-I’m sorry, Mettaton. That’s—that’s not what I mean,” Alphys apologized feebly, feeling terrible for her thoughtless question.

“No, that is what you mean. But honestly… I get it. I’m not good at keeping promises and being there for people,” Mettaton said listlessly. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. “But I’m going to keep this one. I’ll be there this time. I swear.”

Alphys nodded and avoided his gaze. “Yeah. I, uh—yeah.”

To her surprise, Mettaton stood, picked her up, and held her close. She held on to him too, taking in the feeling of the warm, tough metal and faint smell of oil.

“I’m sorry, Alphie.” It sounded like Mettaton was crying. “I’m such a drag—I come home after four months and I act like this. We’re supposed to be happy to see each other.”

“Metta, I-I know. I am happy to see you, happier th-than I think I can express! I think w-we just… have a lot we need to talk about. But I understand if you don’t want to do that r-right now, it’s really not the best time.” Alphys pushed away gently so she could look him in the eye. “You’re a good person, Mettaton. And I d-do like being your friend.”

“Right.” Mettaton didn’t believe her, but he didn’t want to argue, either. He set her back down on the floor.

For a moment neither of them said or did anything, until Napstablook gently bumped Mettaton’s arm. He smiled a bit and hugged them to his chest, the little ghost’s presence more comforting than anything else that had been said that day.

He retreated to his room after that. He was tired. Tired of being awake, tired of arguing with people, tired of battling his own thoughts. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to do something to distract himself or if he just wanted to rest.

He lay back on the bed and picked up his phone, deciding to see if anyone had wanted to talk to him on Twitter or something. Even if no one did, he decided he should probably make some of kind of homecoming announcement. Then notifications would probably come flooding in, and he wouldn’t have to think anymore, just type.

Briefly his mind visited the possibility that the higher-ups at the studio might be angry with him tomorrow. But he brushed aside the concern. Everyone there knew that Glosmer and the rest of the executives ran the studio, but Mettaton ran the show. Nobody would want to risk pissing off the nation’s biggest celebrity. It was serious business to mess with the robot.

Work would go fine, and the dinner would be even better.

Mettaton had nothing to worry about.

He was too fabulous and everyone loved him too much for anything to go wrong.