"No, I'm a daemon," she says, with a fuller confidence in the word than she's shown in much else.

Papyrus-the-skeleton's jaw opens and shuts a couple times as he searches for words. "'Demon'? Like, contracts and souls and hell, demon?"

"No!" The question flusters her, and she shifts shapes again; a cat, tail fluffed out, hopping to the ground beside him. "It just... sounds similar."