About 30 minutes later, Mettaton was finally done with Frisk's hair.
"Phew!" Mettaton said putting down the curling iron and drinking the last sip of his wine while hovering around the back of the chair. "Your hair is finally presentable. Do you like it?"
Frisk looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was even all-around, but Mettaton had made it wavy, like how his looked when he was Mettaton EX. Frisk wasn't too sure he liked that.
But Frisk said, "It looks fine…"
"Oh, good," Mettaton said clasping his hands together happily. "I knew you'd love it. It really balances out the look, so you don't look so grungy…"
"But I like looking grungy," Frisk said glaring at him in annoyance. "It's cool. Besides, aren't you the one who gave me the black pants and boots?"
Mettaton put his ghostly hands on Frisk's shoulders and said, "Now's not the time for arguing, darling. Now's the time for makeup."
"Makeup?" Frisk asked incredulously looking back at him. "But, why do I need makeup? I'm a boy."
"Who says boys can't wear makeup?"
"But I don't want to wear makeup. It's weird."
"Don't whine, Frisk," Mettaton said turning the chair around and hovering over Frisk with the foundation that he pulled out from nowhere. "You need makeup, or else on stage, your face will be harder to see. Now, hold still, dear. This shouldn't take long."
"No!" Frisk protested while pulling his sweater over his face. "I'm not wearing it! You'll make me look like a girl!"
"I will not!" Mettaton replied in annoyance. "Now, cut this out! We're running out of time."
"Then, don't give me makeup!"
"You have to have it to go on-stage, sweetie. It's protocol."
"I don't care."
"You should care."
"Why should I?"
Mettaton rolled his eyes impatiently, dug his free hand into the sweater so that it was under Frisk's head, and propped it up so that his head was out of the sweater and his eyes were looking directly into his.
Frisk trembled nervously as Mettaton stared directly into his eyes.
Mettaton looked back confidently and said in the charming, flamboyant tone that was somehow also intimidating, "Because, my dear little Frisk, unless you follow the rules and do what I say, you aren't allowed to go on stage and you won't get any of the prizes I wanted to give you. You don't want that. Do you?"
"No," Frisk said timidly looking away.
"I didn't think so," Mettaton said changing his tone back to cheerful and letting Frisk's head go so he could squirt the foundation in his hands. "Now, sit back and close your eyes, my dear. I'm gonna make you look pretty."
Frisk flinched as Mettaton rubbed the foundation on his face, but he stood as still as he could. Frisk prayed for strength and kept in mind how much the money would be helping his new family.