[They do still startle, but only by a little. Frisk turns from where they had been attempting to tear apart half-rotted scraps of fabric into something useful and faces Peter with a confused expression. They blink, look down at the make-shift bag in their hands, then back up to him.]
But...we. We need stuff here. Don't we? People're lookin'.
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But...we. We need stuff here. Don't we? People're lookin'.