Water splashes into the air with the impact of the fist, raining down. But Lapis doesn't give pause, sweeping the remnants of the fist back into the air. The water shifts, regathers . . . and chases after the small figure with giant, outstretched fingers, aiming to snatch the child even as Frisk flees.

"I didn't get to choose -- neither do you."

The fingers are closing in faster than Frisk can run; they'll cut off air and breath if they close the child in their grasp.