[He has absolutely nothing to be afraid of. Before he's even asking, Grit is throwing the door wide open, taking the offered cup without a word. Please don't spill hot chocolate on yourself...]
Um.
[W-words? Eventually Grit just- leads the way, instead, Into the room and over to their futon, which is still out despite the late hour. It's cold enough to warrent sitting around under their blanket, and as they carefully sit themselves down, they look up at Isol almost expectantly.
traumatised eight year old, I choose you! Frisk, use sad smile!
Um.
[W-words? Eventually Grit just- leads the way, instead, Into the room and over to their futon, which is still out despite the late hour. It's cold enough to warrent sitting around under their blanket, and as they carefully sit themselves down, they look up at Isol almost expectantly.
You too, mister floof. Get in here.]