Hey! New Chapter of Trouble, up! (I have to say, this chapter gave me a lot of pain to write. It's honestly ridiculous how difficult Mettaton is to write. Ah well, I hope you enjoy! Thanks to anyone reading this. Please comment if you get the chance!)

The moment Frisk threw open the double doors of the Hotlands, she ran face first into a brick wall.

"Frisk, why were you late?" said the wall. The wall was Mettaton. Frisk leaped back from him and started blubbering.

"Mettaton! I'm-so-sorry-I-was-late-I-just-tripped-over-this-creepy-old-wet-guy-outside-my-door-and-I-think-I-hurt-him-so-I-just-had-to-take-care-of-him-for-a-second-and-he-just-looked-so-sad-you-should-have-seen-him-but-after-I-let-him-into-my-house-I-realized-I-was-late-and-got-here-as-fast-as-I-could-so-please-don't-fire-me-I-swear-I'll-do-better- and-mmf!"

He clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Shhhhhh," he said. "Calm down, Frisk, precious. It's alright, darling, it's alright! Calm down.. I'm not going to fire you." He bent down so they were at eye level with each other, and she noticed something. Mettaton's hair, which was normally draped artfully over his left eye, was pulled back.

It revealed... well, she didn't know what exactly that was, but it certainly wasn't an eye.

"Are you calm now? Can I take my hand away?"

She nodded. He removed his hand from her mouth, giving her just the space to see the rest of him, and she was shocked to see that he looked... well... masculine. Normally when she saw him, he was wearing ornate, lovely dresses and elegant shoes with the occasional fur pelt about the shoulders, but now? Now he was wearing a white dress shirt, dark blazer and slacks, and he looked... well, almost like a normal, good-looking man.

"Good," said Mettaton said. "Actually, there was something I wanted to tell you. I'm sorry if I frightened you with my asking why you were late, I was just worried! Actually..."

He crossed his arms and looked her up and down. She couldn't help but notice how his not-eye didn't move with his actual eye. He frowned.

"Actually... what?" said Frisk, thinking he may have trailed off on accident. His eye flicked back to her face and he smiled cheerily.

"Oh, yes! Actually, I was going to give you the day off..."

"Really?" she asked, feeling like a schoolgirl who'd just been told she showed up to school on a weekend.

"...sort of," he continued. Her face fell.

"Sort of?"

"Well, of course! You see, I know how hard you work, darling, and I know you deserve a break; but I can't just give you a day off. Understand?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't. If you wanted to give me a day off, then why don't you?" She quirked her eyebrow inquisitively. He crossed his arms and shook his head, as though she was missing something completely obvious.

"Because I can't, darling. Besides, I've been wanting to talk to you for a while now, and that's all I mean by 'sort of' a day off. Just spend two hours with me and I swear, I'll let you have the rest of the day to yourself."

She looked at him, hoping for more of an explanation. When she saw one wasn't coming, she said, "Why?"

"Because it's been too long since we've had a good chat, darling!" he said. "Besides, I think I might have some apologizing and/or explaining to do," he added, somewhat bashfully.

"What do you have to explain, Mettaton?"

He looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Things," he responded, finally. "Look, I got all dressed up just for you, the least you could do is humor me! Just two hours is all I ask. Ok?"

Frisk was skeptical. Her past dealings with Mettaton had taught her not to swallow whole every word he said. The first time she'd trusted him completely, she'd been roped into working at a bar in a strip club. The second time, she'd almost been killed by a crazy man with a gun. (She still wondered where that guy had gone. He said something about being her "new best friend" the last time she'd seen him, which made her think she'd be seeing him again. Yet, he hadn't appeared again since that night.)

Mettaton grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently.

"Come on, Frisk, dear. It'll be fun, I swear. I'll give you tomorrow off too," he told her, smiling sweetly. The effect was diminished slightly by his not-eye.

"What exactly do you want, Sir?" said Frisk, coldly. She didn't want to be mean, but at this point, it was either be a little mean or get a lot hurt; and she was determined not to get hurt if she could help it.

"Well, that's a little rude, wasn't it sweetheart?" His voice held a little edge to it this time. She stood firm.

"Any time you want me to do something for you, I always end up caught off guard and doing something that could get me hurt. I don't want to be rude, I just need to know what you really want me to do before I'm forced into it. You know? Sorry if I offended you, but..." She trailed off, losing her nerve. She avoided his eye, but could feel him staring at her. "Can I please just get back to work now?"

"If I tell you the other reasons I want you to come with me for a few hours, will you do it?" he responded immediately. She thought for a moment.

"Maybe," she said at last.

"Okay," he said, sounding a little dejected. "Well the first reason is that, well, I felt bad about... you know... putting you in that little situation with Flowey and I... I wanted to make it up to you."

Part of Frisk felt a surge of guilt for doubting Mettaton's motives. Was it really necessary to have been that rude? He was her boss, after all, and he'd been kind enough to take her in when no one else would, (at the expense of her pride, true, but her pride was expendable if it meant she could live.)

Another part of Frisk wondered why Mettaton had waited this long. The incident with Flowey happened a while ago, so why hadn't Mettaton even mentioned the event until now?

"My other reason," Mettaton continued, "is not as noble. It's, er, rather embarrassing, actually."

This had to be the first time she had ever seen Mettaton act so sheepish in front of anyone, much less a girl half his size and with not the temperament to harm him.

"Well," he paused, apparently debating on something. The thoughtful expression soon vanished. A decision had been made. "If you must know, Frisk, darling, I need someone to go with me to a certain restaurant. You see, precious, there are some people there that I really need to impress. I told them I had a sweet, young... err...female friend, and they didn't believe me due to my, erm, usual appearance. So I thought to myself, 'do I know any sweet, young females?' and of course, you were the first person that popped into my head. I know this is an imposition on my part, darling, but I don't want to deal with their incessant mockery anymore."

Mettaton looked at her sheepishly and a little guiltily. She felt a twinge in her chest. So that was his real motive.

"Well, if you really need someone to go with you, then I don't mind. Just tell me the real reason you want me to do whatever it is you want me to do, and I probably won't say no. Okay?"

"Both of those were the real reason," he refuted with a wave of his hand. "Anyway, so you're coming with me, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well then," he said, immediately snatching her hand in his and giving it a little kiss. "Let's go and have the time of our lives, alright, Precious?"

"Sure," she said, smiling widely. He grinned back, then immediately squeezed her hand and lead her out of the club. She followed him without question, out the door, past Papyrus (who had outside duty that day) and into the passenger seat of of a silver car. The seats were made out of some sort of pink leather, and the entire interior smelled, for lack of a better word, like Mettaton.

It was absolutely freezing in the car, but she supposed she should be used to that by now. She lived in Snowdin, after all. Mettaton climbed in the driver's side and started the engine at a leisurely pace.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"Yeah, just a little. I'll get used to it though."

Mettaton snickered. "You don't need to be self-sacrificing now, dearie. I find it a bit too chilly myself."

He flicked a few buttons on the dashboard and warmth immediately began flooding in. Secretly, she reveled in it.

"Now, it takes a little while to get to that place I was telling you about. That's alright with you, right?"

"Of course," she said, silently thinking Mettaton was being a tad too careful with her. He didn't actually have to ask her about everything, but she supposed it was better than him not asking her about anything.

The car started moving, and to her surprise, everything went awkwardly silent. She stared forward, watching the different buildings and people they passed by. It was strange. She was so used to seeing the streets of Snowdin from the ground, that seeing them from inside a car made her feel like an outsider. Like she was watching a movie about a place she'd seen before.

She glanced over at Mettaton, who looked completely normal... right up until she looked at his hands. They were gripped so hard on the steering wheel, the knuckles were white.

"Mettaton?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Is everything okay? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Why do you ask, sweetheart?"

"Your knuckles are turning white."

Mettaton immediately relaxed his hands. "Really? They don't look white to me, precious; in any sense. See?"

He held his hand out for her to inspect.

"Well, they aren't now, but they were before! Seriously, if you're that nervous about going to that restaurant you were talking about, we could just skip it and go to GRILLBY'S instead."

Mettaton made a face. "Ugh."

"What?" she asked.

"No offense to your taste, darling, but that is honestly the most revolting eating establishment in all of Snowdin. And to top it all off, the food there is just so...greasy. It's no good for you."

"Whaaat?" she said in a playfully insulted tone. "How could you say that about my favorite restaurant? I'm offended, honestly."

Mettaton smiled. "It's disgusting, and really, how could I keep up my fantastic figure if I went around and ate at every mediocre burger joint I came across?"

"You sound like Papyrus."

"Well, that's not so bad a thing, is it? You like him."

"Yeah, I like him. So, what kind of restaurant are we going to, anyway? If it's a burger joint, I'm not going to let you live it down."

"It's not a burger place, trust me," he said with a mock sigh. She smiled a little herself. He seemed much less nervous now.

There was silence for a long while. Buildings passed that she hadn't seen since she took the bus ride to Snowdin. Were they leaving town to go to this place of his? Her heart felt like it was going to jump out of her chest. He hadn't found out who she really was, had he? Was he taking her back to her hometown?

No, she told herself. There was no way he'd found out. For him to have found out, he would have had to get some sort of word from her hometown that she was missing. That was impossible. For anyone in her hometown to have sent word to Snowdin about her disappearance, someone would have had to care.

She was just being paranoid.

"Frisk?" asked Mettaton.

"Yeah?"

"I have a question for you."

"What is it?"

"...Do you think that even the worst person can change...? That everyone can be a good person, if they just try?"

"You're not a bad person, Mettaton. You're actually pretty nice-"

"Just answer me, please?"

Frisk thought about her answer for a moment, trying to be tactful. Even if Mettaton wasn't always the best friend he could be to her, he was still the reason she was even still alive. She wanted to help him. She was determined to help him in any way she could.

"Of course I do. What you do now may not erase the sins of the past, or make it so you don't have to pay for them, but... well..." The car took a turn, and suddenly, they were in an area she didn't recognize. They weren't going out of town at least.

"Well," she tried to think of the right words. "At least you're doing something."

Mettaton was silent for a while, then, out of nowhere, he laughed. It didn't sound normal. If anything, it sounded robotic and hollow and horrible.

"That's not the right answer," he told her.

"Is this a quiz show? I thought this was an opinion you were asking for. What would the right answer be anyway?"

"It doesn't really matter, Precious. We're almost there."

"Oh? Really? You still haven't told me what kind of place it is. Now that I think about it, I'm not so sure I should show up here in my work clothes. What do you think?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. He's going to love you."

"He?" she asked, warily.

"The person I'm trying to impress, darling."

"Oh."

They pulled up next to a nice looking building, lit on the outside with lovely white lights. It had no windows but the door, which was made of some sort of an opaque, glass material. It looked absolutely beautiful in the snow.

"Um, this place looks nice," Frisk commented. Mettaton was silent on the matter.

Frisk got out of the car first, then waited for Mettaton at the entrance. He was about to reach for the handle of the door when she stopped him.

"Hey, shouldn't we hold hands or something like that? You are trying to convince this guy that you have a, erm, female friend, right?" She held out her hand, which he took and gave a light squeeze.

"I'm sorry, Precious," he said. He opened the door.

"What do you mean-"

Someone else interrupted her.

"Well, howdy! If it isn't Frisk, my one and only best friend! It sure is great to see you, as healthy and adorable as ever. Come on, give your ol' pal, Flowey, a hug."