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Flowey had spent a long time as Gerson's desk plant, in his own quest to discover everything that the Underground had to offer, to hear every tale and to feel, well, any positive feeling at all. After many flawless imitations of perfect kindness, his own true self was antagonistic and snide, even despite his genuine interest in the lore the old man had lived through.
"What's the point of even living such a long life if you can't share it with all your dead so-called friends? Even the ones that weren't killed off pitilessly, even the ones that didn't predictably abandon you for their own kind in the end," Flowey smirked, "All you are are your memories, old man. Why even live...?"
Gerson had always felt there had been something beyond himself worth surviving for, yes, despite everything. That faith drove him to fight for a coexistence between humans and monsters, a world he and his allies felt deeply was worth striving for. Before their imprisonment, monsters didn't need a formal faith, being so closely tied to the life force of the world. Yet long after the barrier sealed the monsters underground, a new cult had formed in time. It was said that there would be an Angel, one who would break the barrier and free monsterkind. Of course, the prophecy was unclear about whether their freedom would come through a new life on the surface above or through their final doom. Gerson chose to believe that monsters would yet again step back into the sunlight, and so he lived to see that day along with those who never had before. And yet there were days, accompanied by Flowey's needling, where he was unsure himself of how it all would end.
"I reckon you can't understand it," Gerson told the flower. "but our hope was so bright... Maybe the efforts borne from that hope are what held the humans back from simply killing us all where we stood, geheheh."
"Maybe it would have been less PATHETIC if THEY had been the one to kill you and save you from a lifetime of languishing under the dirt." Flowey smirked. Gerson knew who exactly "they" referred to, and the images he had long tried put aside came to him once more. The sight of them in their mage's robes, their once familiar voice in a new and foreign chant, their beauty in their betrayal... that experience would never leave Gerson's mind despite the years. "Years of friendship set aside to slay what just becomes another MONSTER... Wouldn't THAT be something to behold!"
Gerson smiled sadly, remembering that strange, irony-poisoned feeling. "Call me what you will, I continue to believe in their reasons for not outright doing so."
"Fool." Flowey spat. "I would call you weakened with age, but that soft-heartedness was your downfall from the beginning. Even that CHILD Undyne has the potential for determination far surpassing yours. But at least you're training her in combat- because you know and have always known that it always has to come to blows, and otherwise it would be some boring one-sided slaughter!" Flowey laughed. "She might have what it takes, to truly hate humanity!"
Flowey expected Gerson to speak about how martial arts were a tool to maintain peace... but Gerson just sighed and stroked his goatee pensively. "Yes, yes. She's really something, isn't she?" The man would surprise him yet.