Polite, kind, and knows their manners. Vivian likes them already. Her confidence never seems to falter, as she watches the younger child-- not to say Vivian isn’t younger herself, she just tends to act eons older than she really is-- that, and she’s probably older than Frisk, in general. That thought makes them feel better, more assured. “Do not fret, I can stop my training to speak with someone who means no harm.”
Ah, they fell, too...? She watched the other with an intensity of her own-- the intense gaze is almost similar to Undyne’s, but more calm, more calculating-- it’s an irony in it’s finest that the only one to match her intensity is her murderer. “No, no, I fell, dearest Frisk. I, considering your attire, most likely fell far, far before you.” She’s idly scrutinizing the others appearance, but she means nothing by it. For her, it’s just a way of evaluating class, as silly as it is. Vivian... Didn’t look, by any means, from this time period. She brushes off her skirt, if only idly, dust flittering around in the air before settling on the ground beneath Vi. “The monsters may be kind, but, I am not lacking sin. It’s... The dust on my hands isn’t without jurisdiction, of course-- they asked to duel, I simply did as they asked-- it... I suppose what I’m trying to say is that it’s much harder for the sinners to be accepted, so I must prepare myself.” She doesn’t falter in confidence for a second, though she does stumble on what words to use-- her words are as precise as she is, it seems. She raised her eyebrows at Frisks question. What was she asking, here?
