[Flowey has spent the last few days asleep. Although healing berries, Leech Seed, and other methods have meant he hasn't wound up permanently scarred or dead, he still got blasted in the face by a monster bear, nearly drowned, was sent flying by a massive whale, and worst of all, got dragged to a sleepover. He's exhausted to the very core.

So, no, he won't be participating in a race, thank you very much. If he had curtains he could draw, he would. Alas, he can hear the festivities from his roofless abode well into the night. When he actually tries to participate and asks for some alcohol, the vendors don't even give him a sip. 'Too young', his left leaf-- sure, discount the time loops if you want, but he nearly died for his guild already! Now he can't even drink?

... Speaking of, he spots Ribombee nursing some mead. This might be his chance to endear himself to his guild leader. Ribombee must recognize that not only did he put in great effort in his guild duties, but now he's here being a good sport about their festival, too, right?

Flowey picks up a poffin and carries it on his head over to Ribombee.]

Guildmaster! Wow, it sure is great to see you! Hope you're enjoying this wonderful Dragafloat Festival!

[He knows Ribombee is far more shrewd than he lets in on-- doubtless he's heard more rumors about Flowey's... temperament. He gestures forward, beckoning Ribombee to take the poffin.]

Here, my treat! Just wanted to show my appreciation for all you do! [He somehow manages to say this while maintaining his smile and not wretching. Ugh-- he hates playing suck-up. But he will.]