[Mettaton watches, a smile still playing on his lips, as Fugo denies the nickname and then describes the pillow as dryly as someone reading from a phone book. If Giorno was a pocket-sized Mettaton, then Mettaton's found his miniature Keats - and it's practically scowling at him.

Adorable.

He chuckles, stretching out on the floor with a flourish.]

Oho, wonderful! That's exactly what I needed to hear. You should be in advertising, gorgeous. [Wink.]

Hold on, though. I just need one more thing...

These blankets! [He's already tossing one in Fugo's direction.] What are these like?