The room's obviously to Frisk's scale--giant to him, not overly impressive to someone their size. The walls are a dull blue, a few small cracks running up and down the paint, revealing that it used to be off-white. The bigger cracks have pictures taped over them--magazine clothes they want, posters of robots of all kinds, though the most prevalent are ones posing like they're models--one humanoid and pink, one boxlike and closer to silver.

There's a pretty large window that looks over a street, though he can only see a sky streaked with smog and the top of a greystone building on the other side. There aren't any curtains, only blinds with a few shades broken off. They've decorated it with a vase full of yellow and blue flowers they've found growing in cracks around the streets.

There's a desk yanked straight from some old office, covered in dents and scratches. There's a computer perched on it that looks surprisingly new. An older lamp is hooked on the edge, looking like it's about to fall off, and an action figure of some gryffon thing made of blue and clear plastic stand on to.

As for the bed itself, the pillows he's on are unremarkable, the blanket's covered in a rainbow of stars, and the whole thing is pressed against a wall on the right side.

The endtable they're leaned over has a small drawer on the side and--where he can't yet see it--a small digital clock flashing red on the top.

Frisk realizes about halfway through the package that they've entirely forgotten to get a drink. With a small sigh, they slip off the bed with the lasagna in hand, ambling out of the room to the kitchen again.

Their footsteps are soft. There's a TV on in the other room, playing indistinct commercials.

Otherwise...the entirety of the apartment is silent.