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You’re cold, you’re tired, your head and back ache where you smacked them on the grates, and dirty water stings your skinned knees. All this would be miserable enough without the very angry dummy summoning its brethren to mob you.
It doesn’t seem likely to calm down anytime soon, either; this is not a very good thing because you don’t dodge too well when you’re distracted.
This would normally be the point when Chara starts heckling you and demanding that you let them take over. But they’re not saying anything at all. They’ve been weirdly silent for a while now—since you found the funny statue with the music box inside—and it is actually kind of lonely.
You thought you were making progress with them. The thing with Papyrus—their reaction to his offer to let you stay wasn’t so different from your own. And you really want to ask them about that dream you had when you fell.
But they’re so far away, and you can’t get their attention, and you’re so worried you nearly walk straight into the dummy horde’s laser beams.
“Watch it,” they say suddenly, sort of cross. And even though you’re blurry-eyed with pain, you can’t stop the smile from rising to your face. They still sound kind of absent, but they’re annoyed. They’re probably okay, then. Thank goodness. “This may be your meat sack, but when it gets damaged I feel it too.”
“Sorry,” you say, instead of arguing back like you usually would. You try to send along reassurance and relief and warmth as you speak, but who knows if they’ll pick up on it. You’re never sure.
“Never mind that, duck, duck,” they snap. You jump and splash, rolling through the shallows to avoid bullets. The water gets in your nose and mouth, and you spit it out hastily; it tastes just as nasty as actual garbage. “And heal yourself, honestly, when’s the last time you even saved? I don’t want to have to go through here again.”
“You and me both,” you say, and rifle through your pockets for whatever you can find. There’s not actually that much left. “But I did save just a couple minutes ago, we’ll be fine.”
Chara’s quiet while you eat your last slightly melted unicicle, even through the brain freeze. You start to get concerned again.
Meanwhile, the dummy continues to rage about the incompetence of its reinforcements. “Who needs friends!” it howls. “I’ve got knives!”
“Relatable,” Chara says, and you almost don’t dodge in time.
“Chara,” you say, kind of aghast but also a little delighted despite yourself.
You didn’t realize dummies could sweat, but this one is. “…I’m out of knives,” it says. It sounds embarrassed.
“That feel when,” says Chara, with such genuine wistfulness you actually snort.
“Where did you even learn that meme,” you say.
“From you, obviously,” they retort. A pause; then, hopefully: “Hey Frisk, can we go pick that up later?”
“I think it was just a bullet, and I don’t know where it went anyway,” you tell them.
“Damn.”