Fortunately for them, they haven't yet hit the age where sweat equates to increasingly bad smells. Doomed to only smell of dirt, flowers, and blood- Chara Dreemurr, quite possibly eternally stuck as a child.

They would have taken smelly feet for a few more inches of height, honestly.

"I suppose I'll take your word for it." Chara shrugs dismissively, eyes still fixed on their work. "Maybe. But I do have a question."

Or a few, actually.

"Do you layer the paint? How long does it take to dry?"