Yuri's not surprised by the wave of bitterness that wells up in him at the strange creature's blithe attitude and he's mentally preparing a biting retort when everyone hears the footsteps. He drops to the floor, hardly even needing to think about it, and when he observes Snowdrake retreating to the lamp stand Yuri feels a stab of concern that maybe he should have climbed back up onto the bed while he was at it, but there isn't enough time before the child- Frisk- enters the room.
Yuri lies on the floor, watching without moving as Frisk's enormous feet move past, feeling the slight shock waves reverberate when they bounce on the bed next to him.
He learns, from their slightly muffled voice, that it is apparently Friday. He is missing work. Whenever he gets out of this mess, he's going to have to explain his absence.
And then all of a sudden he's surrounded by hair and he's being lifted up into the air and now he's face to face with Frisk. His limbs flop boneless against their fingers, and Yuri finds himself scrutinizing them almost as much as they are him.
He's not sure how to gauge how old they are, beyond definitely not a teenager or toddler. They have an ordinary sort of face with their most outstanding feature, at this range, being the peculiar golden brown color of their eyes.
It's a little early to tell for sure, but the toys seemed to like the child. But perhaps they were programmed to feel that way, and that signifies nothing. Oh, and they like heroes, but that's most children, as far as Yuri is aware. He doesn't spend much time with children, after all, outside of that one interview or the rare court case.
He doesn't even like children- they're irrational, and ignorant in the ways of the world, and... Well. He just doesn't care for them. Which makes it all the more perverse that he has to pose as a toy.
no subject
Yuri lies on the floor, watching without moving as Frisk's enormous feet move past, feeling the slight shock waves reverberate when they bounce on the bed next to him.
He learns, from their slightly muffled voice, that it is apparently Friday. He is missing work. Whenever he gets out of this mess, he's going to have to explain his absence.
And then all of a sudden he's surrounded by hair and he's being lifted up into the air and now he's face to face with Frisk. His limbs flop boneless against their fingers, and Yuri finds himself scrutinizing them almost as much as they are him.
He's not sure how to gauge how old they are, beyond definitely not a teenager or toddler. They have an ordinary sort of face with their most outstanding feature, at this range, being the peculiar golden brown color of their eyes.
It's a little early to tell for sure, but the toys seemed to like the child. But perhaps they were programmed to feel that way, and that signifies nothing. Oh, and they like heroes, but that's most children, as far as Yuri is aware. He doesn't spend much time with children, after all, outside of that one interview or the rare court case.
He doesn't even like children- they're irrational, and ignorant in the ways of the world, and... Well. He just doesn't care for them. Which makes it all the more perverse that he has to pose as a toy.