Toriel was sitting near the window, next to the fireplace as she smiled and flipped through the pages of a book about snails. “Oh, hello, my child.” Toriel spoke gently. “Did you perhaps want some Butterscotch-Cinnamon Pie?” Toriel offered. “If you don’t want that, I can always make some Creamy Chicken Stew… Unless you’re not hungry:” She was open to cook or bake for you. “Hm… Although… Do you want me to read you a book instead, if you’d like?” Toriel offered.