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Well like I said. I would protect you.

[Mettaton knows what Asriel's feeling. He doesn't have to hear it verbally; he knows that feeling, the one of being captured against your will and shackled to the ground to be appraised. He knew what it was like to have your will disregarded.

The only difference was that Mettaton was a robot. He wasn't considered an animal, but instead as a programmable husk used for a singular purpose; blood sport. Murder.

Suffice it to say...he's happy to keep to the happier parts of the conversation. There's way too much pain and unresolved feelings tied to what had happened on the Outpost, and although Mettaton knows it's useless to push this away, that it's only hurting him--and he's sure it's hurting Asriel to suppress it--he can't bring himself to talk about it very much.]

I suppose I'll have to ask Toriel for permission to borrow you too, like I must with Frisk.

We'll have a good time! I promise! I have connections, and money! Celebrities want for nothing, after all!