[A lick of his lips and a wink. (The latter of which might or might not add much, since... bangs.)]
Got it.
[He writes in the best and most flourishy script he can without a flat surface - lifting the poster and posturing as gracefully as he can to ideally give Gottlieb something of a look as he does, once he notices what the gent's doing; mmh, priceless! "For Gottlieb, my first new fan among the carnival. What a peach!" ...
Aaand on that comment, Mettaton pauses. Brow lifts. Was that hypothetical, or...?]
Oh?
[He's already pinned his eyes back onto Gottlieb, but he turns his face halfway away from the poster and to him, to move him further in from the peripherals of his vision. And flash 'im a beam.]
Are you hiring?
[There's a definite dimension of active intrigue in his voice, not that he'll get openly bubbly with it. Do tell, Gottlieb.]
no subject
Got it.
[He writes in the best and most flourishy script he can without a flat surface - lifting the poster and posturing as gracefully as he can to ideally give Gottlieb something of a look as he does, once he notices what the gent's doing; mmh, priceless! "For Gottlieb, my first new fan among the carnival. What a peach!" ...
Aaand on that comment, Mettaton pauses. Brow lifts. Was that hypothetical, or...?]
Oh?
[He's already pinned his eyes back onto Gottlieb, but he turns his face halfway away from the poster and to him, to move him further in from the peripherals of his vision. And flash 'im a beam.]
Are you hiring?
[There's a definite dimension of active intrigue in his voice, not that he'll get openly bubbly with it. Do tell, Gottlieb.]