The spider rubbed his chin. "If only there was a way to socially engineer culture to where it was taboo to go into a bar looking for a partner. Instinct and drugs . . . are a bad mix."

"Yeah. I can't make any laws about it, obviously. That would be a severe restriction of freedom. And anyway, humans already tried prohibition. That was a disaster. We make education programs, but that's all voluntary and I don't want to make them graphic enough to scare people."

"It's what my father did."

"Hm."

"What do the humans do to discourage drinking and clubbing?" the spider asked.

"I . . . don't think they do much of anything."

"Oh."

"Well, as Toriel says," the spider's stalk-like form seemed to wilt at the mention his missing friend, "their stakes are not as high."

"Or maybe they just don't care as much about prevention," Asgore said snidely, baring his teeth. "Or protecting their children. Or even taking care of themselves."

The spider glanced at him, and away.

"What?"

"I . . . just really don't like the way you talk about them, sometimes, Sire."

"Please don't play that card on me, Gaster. I got enough of that from Toriel."

"I'm not playing tricks." The spider hunched, "and I don't think she was either."

"All right," the part-dragon said sternly. "but I just don't want to hear it."

"Yes sir." The spider said softly.

"And she did try plenty of rhetorical maneuvers on me." The part-dragon sighed. "Maybe she doesn't like the apocalyptic framing I use for the fight once we get out of here, but it really invigorates everyone."

"I don't believe how quickly they've romanticized the wars," the spider shook his head, and seemed to be reliving something that very moment, as his gaze tuned out.

"They'll realize," Asgore reassured him.

"Since you want to do as much of the fighting as possible, and keep them out of it, how are they supposed to-"

"Gaster," Asgore cut him off sharply, and the spider, surprisingly, looked defiant for a moment.

Then he relaxed again.

You can't fool me. Asgore thought. You always get the most upset at my being in danger. Maybe other spiders expect you to resist this on ideological grounds, and you've done enough sidestepping to successfully conceal your perspective. But. That's what always triggers you.

The spider just didn't have any idea how powerful he would be. He could tell him in numbers- magic had units after all- but it wouldn't sink in that he'd be nearly indestructible until the doctor saw it for himself, it seemed. This was magic that was carefully guarded by dragonkin, so other monsters didn't have the firsthand scope. Those who utilized it almost always got ganged up on by other monsters if they didn't get widespread approval first. Despite the lure of power, there had been checks and balances to keep it off the battlefield, too.

He wondered if other monster civilizations turned to it to survive. That was possibly the worst thing about being down here. Having no communication. Not knowing what happened to the rest of the animals. They had been hemmed in by all sides on humans and had to resort to espionage to get messages through their territory. And he didn't doubt humans had told other monsters that they had been wiped out, to prevent them from attempting to break them free.

At the very least, he knew the underwater strongholds were all right. Before they were contained, he had gotten word that they were working on magic that would allow land dweller refugees.

"As you point out, the logistics of wiping out humans completely is out of our grasp. Even if I do manage my plan. Most nobles realize that, and I suspect most of the people actually do, too."

"Don't give them too much credit," the fellow noble sneered.

"Oh Count, ye of little faith."

"Faith? Puh. Don't bring theology into this," the doctor teased back.

"Rhetoric. That's the way it goes sometimes with politics, but . . . Go ahead and straightforwardly call me bigoted if you must, but no angling around the issue."

"I would never." A flicker of a smile flew across his fangs. "Ethnocentric, perhaps."

The king chuckled. "Oh yes, I will gladly accept that, Doctor. And you don't consider yourself to be so?"

The spider narrowed his many eyes. "Erm, I think, since we won't have contact with them for a very long while, it's kind of a moot point, isn't it?"

"Are you dodging the question, little spider?" The man really was an expert at deflecting and redirecting. He got an image of himself as a kitten, playing with a tangled ball of yarn, rolling over and getting his sharp claws caught in it. Maybe it was sticky yarn, like a web's strings. Haha.

Watching him daze other less sharp monsters was sometimes amusing, too. He had no doubt the Doctor gained some sense of twisted enjoyment out of it as well.

"Actually, no. Think about it. Their culture will have changed substantially by the time we get out. Seems pointless to hang onto our opinions of it as of now. Might as well start thinking of it as a clean slate."

"Ah." He rested a hand on his shoulder. "Once again, Doctor, you outpace me."

The five eyes looked genuinely prideful for a moment, flattered by the compliment. The small spider seemed to grow just a hair bigger.

Wow, so that's what that looked like. He hadn't seen that look in quite a while. He would get it to come out more. To draw it out. His next chase and hunt, Asgore thought.

The older man looked over to the other side of the room and said in warm baritone, "Your canvas is still waiting."