"Thank you," they say a little hoarsely. The smile on their face has become a grimace, and the both of them are talking in grievous understatements, but Chara can't bring themself to set things right. The subject should die. To their knowledge, this is the only sort of thing Frisk has let them kill without protest.

"... Um." Happy thoughts. Frisk did something nice for them, and the least Chara can do is to avoid bringing them down. (Not that they might not do it anyway.) They clear their throat, glancing back into the cell.

Their gaze lands on discarded food wrappers and a plastic bottle. "... Hey." They turn back to Frisk. "We probably have royalty on board." The fact sounds far less exciting out loud than it did in their head, and it wasn't particularly interesting there either. They might as well have spotted a professional acrobat. 'Keep an eye out', they'd say, 'he might do a trick.'