[Feeling as though he's managed to share enough, Mettaton drags himself away from the thought-talking flower. He has a point about needlessly agitating Sumo, and he doesn't want to make enemies with a big dog like him, lest he try to tear his arms off and keep them or something. That's not ideal, and he has no idea how to repair himself and nothing to defend himself with.]

Yes. You could call it murder, since I was expressly out to kill the human to take their soul for myself. Attempted, anyway. I tried... and failed.

[It's all in the past, and Mettaton's not inclined toward explaining the context: to him, it's obvious that taking a human soul equals gaining incredible power. Without thinking, he rubs the area where his arm is connected to his body, sparing a look toward Sumo before smiling at him and reminding him of the stick. Playing might still be their only ticket to Hank's freedom, at this rate.]

But they proved to me that they could handle their own and survive the king, against all odds. And they stood their ground so fiercely that my ratings skyrocketed to an all-time high! [He sighs.] It was a fabulous performance. It all worked out in the end, and nobody had to die.