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"sure, sure. welp, thanks for the warm welcome." Sans grins and props his head up against a gloved hand. He's, for the most part, content to just kick back and listen to the other guy rattle on about the folks he knows. Kinda weird just how many of them are here, but hey. Maybe people just come in packs to places like this. Or are taken, more like. Kind of freaky.

Queen, Susie, Noelle, spamton... sounds like a real cast of characters, the way Tenna describes them. He's pretty sure he even knows that first lady.

"so. asgore, huh?" Sans finally pipes back up when Tenna hits a lull. Suppose he's got a pretty important conversation to get to once he finds the guy, then. Ugh, work. And not even the kind of work he can opt out of. "guess i'll be seeing him at some point, then. thanks for the low-down. i'm not really the kind of guy to toss people out windows anyways— sounds like a lot of effort." He'd probably be the first one out the window if it was really that bad— Papyrus got the habit from somewhere. And hey. It's almost always funny.

Except for that one time, where that girl didn't know he could use blue magic. Just kinda skipped his mind, and intentionally stepping out of the window on the fourth story of a building… well. Whoops.

"—yeah, kinda picked up on that with your kid. kris seemed pretty angry at me for some reason. bought a hotcat, though." He's pretty sure they were trying to pretend they weren't, but, uh… the kid wasn't exactly the best at that. Still, they've clearly got a guy who cares a whole lot about them— and he doesn't exactly have the motivation or energy to go chewing heads off. Sure is a lot of work for no reward, getting mad at strangers. Being moody is just what kids do. "eh. sure thing. it's no skin off my bones." He just shrugs and waves the whole thought off.

Sans snorts at the other guy's court jester comment. He's probably the only guy in the underground that actually still talks to both the king and the former queen. Not like he's ever caught anyone else knocking at that door. Guess that makes the two of them.

It'd figure that the guy who used to be a tv knows a hell of a lot about things to watch, too. They're sort of built for that, aren't they? Not to stereotype or anything.

"yep. my lil' bro, he'd always fall asleep too. can't ever get him to slow down, but he was always out like a light by the second one. really took it as a personal challenge to sit through 'em all." He did manage it eventually, too. "it was pretty good. i liked the little loincloth guy."

He perks up when the server stops back by with their drinks, the dim lights brightening as the group that had been playing packs up for a break. Sans nonchalantly reaches somewhere under the table— when his hand emerges again he's dropping a hot pink silly straw into the glass, the ice clinking noisily as he idly whisks it around for a moment. The plastic is more than a little silly looking, curled up in big squiggly loops to form a heart.

"sci-fi?" it's clear what part of that actually caught Sans's attention with the way his eyelights flicker back to Tenna's screen. "welp, i'm never one to turn down a good list. hit me with 'em, i bet i can remember them all."

He cracks his mouth open for once to actually take a sip. Human stuff is weird that way— it can't just phase through his teeth like everything else that's actually normal. And not having a mouth he can move like other monsters do is suddenly an actual problem he has. The straw being all bendy is just for his own fun, but it's kind of necessary.

"yeah, i was never really into that sort of slasher gore explosion thing either. maybe if movies and tv were around when i was a kid i would've been. kinda over it these days." He could see himself liking it way back when. Tv stuff still feels relatively new, comparatively speaking— it was… what, four, five decades ago when the underground salvaged the first set they could get to work? What a game changer. Only really got popular kind of recently, when they were getting enough stuff and producing the spare parts for more families than just a sparse few to have a set. And then they got Mettaton.

They've really been hitting a stride with that sort of thing.

"Ha, don't get the wrong idea there! Think of it as a welcome-to-the-surface gesture."

By the grin, though, he knows the other is kidding. And by his own, it looks like he's just having a bit of fun. Has no one ever really bought this guy a drink before? What a sad thought! When a waiter comes by, Tenna orders for the two of them before carrying the conversation back along.

"Who'd I meet... well, I met Asgore again--not mine, but yours. Then there's you. The kids, Frisk and Chara... that's about all for now. Plenty of people from my neck of the channel guide; you'd love Queen, she's a riot. Susie, she looks a little scary, but that girl's got a heart of gold. And if Susie's got a heart of gold, Noelle has a heart made out of peppermint sticks and snowflakes. She's a sweetheart. And there's... ah. Well. If you see Spamton, give him a chance first before you toss him out a window, okay?"

Their relationship was complicated, and sometimes Spamton could be a bit.... much. But Tenna did genuinely believe he deserved kindness from strangers, too. (Unless he ruined it.)

"--So you met Kris! They might seem a little prickly at first, but they're a good kid, too. They've... been through a lot. With Tori not here, I'm, kind of the one in charge of making sure they're okay. So if you can, go easy on 'em for me, alright? Them and Susie, too."

Despite the effortless confidence he's displayed thus far, there are a few subtle tells that this is something he's struggling to find some footing with.

"Royal family, huh? Guess that'd make me the court jester." He snickers. Come to think of it, Toriel did look pretty regal while she was asleep in his Dark World. He thought that was just his own bias showing, but now, he wonders if there's a deeper connection there...?

"Good shows, you say! Lucky for you, if there's one thing I know like the back of my display, it's TV!"

Convenient, isn't it.

"Plenty of good shows! I get all kinds of channels here, too--some of them, I can't make heads or tails of, even. But your Lord of the Rings, that's a classic. An impossible journey of two inseparable friends and a cursed ring... always liked that part with the trees, myself. Hard to get anyone to sit through 'em with me without falling asleep, though."

Maybe if he didn't watch all three of them back to back, he wouldn't have that problem! But that wasn't always an issue either. There were quite a few lazy nights where Spamton fell asleep on him while they were watching something together... he never really minded that either. Watching things with him or the peace of mind that he was fast asleep, both were fine outcomes for an evening. ... Just another painful memory.

--"Hey, if you liked that one, I've got a whole lot of other things you'd love to see. There's a political sci-fi mini-series, SAND, that's one from the 2000's. Dated, but in that classic way. Real gripping story. Or you've got the other end of the spectrum, Monkey Python and the Holy Pail--I feel like you'd like that one. Kind of a dry comedy, but I think it's absurd in a funny way. I could give you a list that'd last you a year, if movies are something you like to watch."

He seems, genuinely delighted by the idea of sharing his knowledge of television and movies.

"I think the only kind of movie I don't really enjoy are those super-violent ones. Gives me nightmares. If the plot's good enough, though, I just turn off my screen for a bit and wait for the bad parts to be over."

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"huh. well, you ever put on a show you can count me in. i'll be there." Sans thoughtlessly accepts the menu from tenna with a wink. He's always happy to support up and coming folks— especially when it's bringing something new to the table, 'professional' or after hours. Sans only actually stops to look at the menu when he registers he's holding onto something laminated.

"ey, you buttering me up or something? i'd say buy me dinner first, but hey. a band is pretty sweet as is." Honestly, he hadn't actually intended to drink anything. Guess it wouldn't hurt, though— he's clearly in good company. Sans turns the menu around to have a proper look at it, idly scanning through the lines. The human food is… uh. Nice and all, but it's real heavy; Chara hadn't been joking when they told him about that one. He should probably go easy on this.

He's got so much magic that it usually takes a lot to touch him, but who knows what this sort would do.

"that johnnie black highball'd probably be fine." Just the one for now. He'll see how it goes. The menu finds itself a nice little home on the table between them, slightly askew from the little metal stand holding some loose napkins.

"really? who'd'ya meet? bet you i already know them." It'd be a real sucker's bet if there was G on it— Sans knows a lot of people. And it'd be nice to catch someone else that's actually from the underground, as cool as this guy is. Check up on them or something. See how things are. He was taken on a real… sour note.

That aside, the explanation Tenna gives him is kind of fascinating. There's one aspect to it that really sticks to him beyond the entire alternate realities thing they seem to keep bumping into around here.

"you were a tv? that's pretty cool." He has no idea how that would ever work, but man does he want to know. Sure does explain the fatback for a head, too. Not all that often monsters come out with irregular looks like that— most folk tend to be a bit more organic, divorced from the stuff that floats in from the surface. It isn't like anyone's maintaining a strong enough influence with humans that it'd change anything, after all.

"no kidding it's bright. makes it kind of hard to see, sometimes." Magic can be pretty crazy. He'd believe it all. Maybe the underground and the 'dark world' are somewhat analogous? Though, probably not directly— he'd bet he would have to be there to really know.

"kris, huh? think i met that one, actually." He's got a real good head for names and faces— if there's one thing that never slips his mind, it would be people. And he distinctly remembers a pissed off kid named that stopping by his 'dog stand the other day. "the rest… yep. that'd be the ol' royal family. minus frisk." It still feels… weird, talking about them.

Wrong, but he isn't gonna dwell on it. Too nice a night for that stuff.

"so. they get any good shows up on the surface? all we had made in the underground was mtt stuff. which, y'know, is fine. but…" he diverts the topic a little, tilting his hand back and forth in the air. "i saw all his work at least seven times over." A severe underestimation on his part. He doesn't mind the guy, but whew. The marathons can be a lot sometimes. He kind of prefers the human stuff these days.

Not that he won't still watch it, mind you. Bro time is bro time. Was.

"we get some good stuff that comes in through the dump, sometimes. found this set still wrapped in plastic— lord of the rings. you ever heard of that one?" He has no idea how popular it would've even been if someone tossed it in the dump, but hey. It was a damn good trilogy. Was a real hit after they figured out a setup to make copies for the neighbors with their own fixed up players.

"I've done a few stand-up routines at the studio, but that's after hours." He grins, handing the other the menu. He has a drink already, but he could treat this guy to one too, if he wanted. Seems like good company.

"Snowdin, huh? In the Underground..."

Funny. Snow used to make him feel safer. A reprieve from the cameras. But now... ...Don't think about it.

"You're not the first monster I've met from the Underground, if you can believe that. I've told this to a couple other people from your side of the stage; we've got a lot of the same cast, but a different script. There's no underground or surface for us; there's a Light World--where all of you live. And a Dark World--that's where 'monsters' like me live."

...Come to think of it, was he a monster? Was Spamton or Queen? Was Ralsei? They were similar enough, sure, but all of them were objects given form by the Fountains...

"That's something you and I have in common, I think. You spent your life underground; I spent it in the dark, for the most part--except from my little table in the living room. It's pretty as a motion picture out here, but that sun... it's bright, huh?"

Hurts his screen a bit, if he's being honest.

"I was the TV for the Dreemurr family--Toriel, Asgore, Asriel and Kris. Asgore moved out a long time ago, so it was just Tori and the kids for a while. Watched 'em both grow up."

There's an unmistakable fondness crackling in his speakers when he speaks of them all. Only the kids caught on that he wasn't just a television, and even then, only Kris really knew he could hear them all. But all the same, Tenna clearly considered them family.

"Wouldn't be surprised if you heard those names either. Everyone else has. Except for Kris; that's our human. You've got... Chara and Frisk, right?"

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"sounds pretty great. bet she throws a mean hangout if i'm there." It stings to hear Papyrus's name from the kid's mouth. Worse than he thought it would, seeing the Human talk about his baby brother like they didn't… as though he wasn't…

They aren't the Human. Frisk. He should probably start trying to make some kind of distinction there— the kid is…

Well. He can't keep holding onto that discomfort like some sort of lifeline. They're clearly not the same person, even if they share a face. He can acknowledge that much at the very least. Even if, distantly, he feels as though the Human had been this gentle once too. The kid seems so upset, biting their lip and fidgeting with some kind of loose skin on their fingers.

"…"

What does he even say to a question like that?

"hey. i get the curiosity," he eventually begins. "but maybe the past should stay that way. you're growing up, living on the surface…" Having trouble letting go, he doesn't quite say. He could see some monsters choosing to continue living underground even in the face of the Barrier being broken, but it doesn't exactly sound like Frisk was just hopping back for a little visit. Not if Sans of all people had to go fetch the kid again and again. "sounds like a good life."

…Well. He'll discourage it, but never let it be said that he wasn't the sort to let folks make their own choices. It's only fair after he'd asked them first.

"i'll talk about it. but uh, be sure you want to hear it. kids like you should keep looking forward. y'know, eyes on the stars." That old monster saying feels stale between his teeth. His kind had followed the gemstones embedded into the cavern walls to find their NEW HOME so long ago— it's… just a bit bittersweet.

He wonders if they ever named wherever they went after on the surface NEW NEW HOME.

Frisk looks down at their hands, resting in their lap. They pick at a piece of pilled fabric on their jeans, feel their jagged bitten nail tug on it, and brings their hand up to bite at the nail. What do they do? Sans... Sans doesn't seem like himself, and even though Frisk initially chalked that up to him being tired from a new city entirely...

What if it's worse? What if it's worse?

"Um... Well..." Would it be right to tell him?

"You... and Papyrus live together, a few houses down from mine. You visit Toriel a lot. And me." Frisk pauses, bringing their hand down to pick at a hangnail, not once making eye contact with Sans.

"We... joke around a lot. You helped me get over a lot of my anxiety after... leaving the Underground. Helped distract me. Teleported me away from Mt. Ebott a lot." They'd run back to it a lot, hoping that Chara would come back if they did.

It never worked, but they never really stopped trying.

Frisk bites their bottom lip, feeling a sting in their nose and eyes, a telltale sign that they were going to cry. They hold it back, though, because this isn't their grief to have-- it's Sans'.

"New friends, um... here I did but. Not back home. I spent a lot of time with you, or Papyrus or MK. You--." They bite their bottom lip. "What do you remember?"

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Chara laughs quietly, hiding their face away at the joke. A distinct feeling of self-satisfaction curls through his chest, warm and bright in spite of the dour conversation. His grin widens.

Score.

"awfully bold to say for a kid with a skeleton." His smile twists a little cheeky. "you look like you'd be a courier." They talk all sharp and formal, drawing all their words out into a neat line. Probably something monospaced-serif, if nothing else.

"…nah. sounds about right. think i'd remember getting you to call yourself the legendary fartmaster. which is totally a super secret passcode still, by the way." Keep the dream alive…

The bright moment doesn't have the chance to last very long.

Chara brings up Toriel.

He half-remembers meeting her properly somewhere, warm and golden light dappling the floor. All she remembered was his voice from the other side of the door. Hours of conversations and well-rehearsed jokes and... little else.

"…nope. not recently." It's a little hard to keep his smile relaxed in the face of that. Sans restlessly bounces his knee, foot braced against a bar along the bottom of the bench.

"been a few days, think she wasn't feeling too well. and i got kind of busy too. i'm a skeleton of many occupations, y'know." She never did come back at the time they usually meet. The silence was stifling.

He didn't want to open a shortcut through that door and check. He can infer.

It was obvious what happened to her anyways. The same thing that happened to everyone else in Snowdin's outskirts. He couldn't even stop to find something to spread her dust over— there wasn't the time for even something like that, even if he got over his own issues and went through those doors.

…But he probably shouldn't tell Chara that. Toriel is still their mother, theories of alternate timelines being consolidated into an in-between or not. It'd just be cruel.

"sorry, kid."

it’s — it’s a serious conversation. Chara knows that. But — the joke makes them giggle. the child covers their face quickly to stifle it, but it isn’t really that effective. Oh well.

“— heh! I do not think I have to worry about that.”

Though, technically, their body was all bones when they woke up again. But that’s. . .thats not a conversation they’re going to tell sans about. Not yet.

even though he probably already knows, huh?

“. . . I mean.”

There’s no way that Chara can just outright say that they have the power to rewind time, and it’s not a stretch to assume that maybe there are diverging timelines caused by said time disruptions, starting and stopping and rewinding all the time.

That’s, uh.

That’s kind of a lot.

“It is just a theory. But. . . I think that I am not wrong. Right?”

What went wrong, though, is the real question. Chara chews their bottom lip as they try to think about it. Just where in time is Sans placed right now? Before Frisk fell?

“Is. . .do you still talk to the lady? Through the door in the RUINS?”

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The Tenna guy finally cracks like an egg trying to bury his own reaction, and Sans has a real chuckle of his own while he tries and fails to blow the whoopee cushion back up, snickering into the soft rubber valve. It hasn't been very long relatively speaking, but it still feels like it's been forever since he'd last really laughed. What a cool guy.

Always feels good to have a joke land like that.

He reinflates the thing before pretending to tuck it back into the pocket of his jacket— and from there back onto the floor of his bedroom, right where he'd taken it from in the first place. He knows better than to actually keep an inflated cushion on him. It'll inevitably just go off again when he forgets he put it in there, after all. No need to catch himself in the aftermath of his own prank.

"hey, i think i will. you're pretty good at this, tenna. ever considered a career as a comedian?" Not everyone is always down to trade blows with him like that— not everyone is even that quick with them. The last person he'd really had a chat this good with was the lady behind the door, and she…

Well. He can sort of tell what she's going to say next these days. That's fine, gotta love a good joke no matter how many times he's heard it, but it's real nice hearing something new for a change.

"snowdin. it's a pretty chill place, lotsa snow. don't think i've ever heard of a spot called hometown." He pauses. "or, uh, the dark world?" Kind of an ominous name.

"…i'm from the underground," he adds. It feels like a ridiculous statement to make— because of course he's from the underground, every monster is. Except for whoever this guy is, apparently. Sans has been basically everywhere in the underground, there hasn't been a corner in it that's new to him for decades. Definitely wasn't a place called hometown anywhere, unless you were calling Home something real funny.

…This might just be another case like the kids. Alternate timelines, or something close enough. It'd explain why he's ever actually heard of the guy before.

Home was more of a proper city, anyhow.

"it is pretty bright out here, isn't it?" He still hasn't really decided if it sucks or not. It's just so… Light. And loud, cheery, busy. Open. Feels like every direction goes on for hundreds of miles. The sky makes him dizzy, sometimes.

Kind of crazy. He thinks he still prefers being indoors, honestly. It's a lot to take in. Light World is definitely one name for it.

"Just bringing you back up to the static-quo." He snickers, grin widening on his screen.

"Consider it a deal, my bony friend!"

And he's eager to give him a firm handshake--fantastic! The night was going better already. But in his enthusiasm, the TV-man falls for the trick, hook line and sinker. After all, nobody pulled those old jokes anymore--the ringer, the buzzer, the flower-squirter. And, of course...

The old 'whoopee-cushion-in-the-hand' technique. A lost art among pranksters. Heck, even the kids tried and failed with that one. But as the silent, muffled 'ppppbbbbbhhhhhhhhhttttttttttt' of air escaped two hands locked in embrace, Tenna realizes...

He's dealing with an expert.

The madman even controlled the volume as to not disturb the performers. Stunning.

"...Pft--"

No. No, he shouldn't laugh. He's too old to laugh at a thing like that!

"Fffft--"

NO! There's a SHOW going on! ... He can't do it. As if stifling a sneeze, he starts to laugh into his elbow--turning down his volume to do so. And with it FINALLY out of his system, he returns the sound bar to its usual place.

"Ahhhh--that was good! You got me!"

The handshake--the real one--was strong and genuine.

"Well, Sans. That was a delight. Stick around a while--I like the cut of your jib." ... "Or maybe it's closer to cut of your rib, huh?"

He has a feeling Toriel would love this guy. Shame she wasn't here.

"So, where'd you fly in from? I'm from the Dark World side of Hometown, myself. Getting used to the Light World--it's a lot brighter up here."

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What was is your muse's relationship with their sibling/s (can be biological, adoptive, found family or otherwise)?

"My brother…" Sans looks a little queasy. It's a solid minute before he actually responds.

"heh. isn't he the coolest? i'd say we get along pretty well." His eyes are closed, like he's more busy thinking than he is with paying attention to you or the question at hand.

"paps was always the baby of the family. it's just him and me, you know?" He's not really sure why he feels the need to say family when it's only ever been the two of them. He only has the one brother.

"he sees the best in people no matter what— he's pretty awesome for that. gotta respect it. he even carries me places so i can catch a nap on the way there, y'know. and makes us dinner— he helped make that outfit he wears all the time, too. he's good with stuff like that." This entire conversation is very quickly derailing into being less about the relationship, and more just Papyrus in general.

"papyrus is just the best. you won't meet anyone better, really. figured it'd only be fair to take up the sentry shtick for him, help him out a little. he's really got enough ambition for the both of us." Despite his suddenly sour mood, it's clear what kind of relationship he has with his brother.

Loving. Just about the only real tether Sans has. He knows a lot of people, but the one thing that still even matters to him when he has to get up in the morning is not upsetting Papyrus. It's always been for his baby brother, for almost as long as he can remember. Everyone else can go kick rocks as far as he cares.

"...other people? nah. just us."

Sans folds his face into a gloved hand.

"…hey, actually. i'm pretty tired. think i'm gonna nap for a bit— don't wait up, 'kay?"

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Untitled Headcanon Questions

Part I You can replace the 'your muse' with the name of the muse you're asking. A random assortment of headcanon questions to send to receiver's muse and help both you and them get to know their muse better. Adjust as necessary to fit pronoun and/or descriptor. Reblog, please do not repost or add.

What can completely break your muse?

What has your muse witnessed in their lives that has fundamentally changed them?

What is your muse's relationship with sex and/or sexual intimacy?

What is a habit your muse has, which they consider perfectly normal, but others think is weird?

Does your muse believe in marriage? Do they ever want to get married?

What is a dream and/or a nightmare your muse had and can't forget?

What is your muse's relationship with their parent/s (can be biological, adoptive, found family or otherwise)?

What does your muse do to pass the time?

What did your muse want to be when they were a child? Would their child self be happy with what they are now?

Does your muse have any pets?

In what ways does your muse express their love to someone else (platonic, familial, romantic, sexual or otherwise)?

What is your muse's favorite hobby/ies? Are there any hobbies they tried but never got the hang of?

If they could go anywhere in the world right now, where would your muse go on a vacation by themselves?

What is inside your muse's pockets/bag/purse/backpack/etc. right now?

Where does your muse feel most comfortable at?

What is your muse's favorite quote, and why?

What does your muse do in their routine to take care of themselves (physically, mentally, emotionally or otherwise)?

What is your muse's favorite piece of clothing in their wardrobe?

What is your muse's favorite food dish? Are they able to make it themselves?

How does your muse prefer someone else confess their love to them, if they want to at all?

How would your muse confess their love to someone?

Who does your muse consider as a good friend, and why?

What would be your muse's last words be if they died right now?

What is a promise someone made to your muse and broken it that your muse never forgot about?

What is your muse's relationship with their sibling/s (can be biological, adoptive, found family or otherwise)?

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"uh, yup. i sure can talk." He squints and gives his roommate a look that's just a little incredulous as he steps back to slide the mushrooms into the large pot, the cutting board and knife being promptly discarded into the thankfully literature-free sink. It's just about done, the broth tinted a warm reddish-brown shade.

"welp. not the first time i've been accused of being a numbskull. no biggie." Maybe he should start wearing a t-shirt clarifying that he's just some guy. He's been getting a lot of weird reactions. Which is fine, but even he has a limit for being goggled and oogled at.

"sans. sans the skeleton." He winks. "but hey, you've already figured that one out."

Necromancer. Now that's a warning bell if he's ever heard one. "…guess so. that's uh, a pretty bold title you'e got." Sans glances back over his shoulder again, "totally different things, though—"

Oh.

The guy… sure is covered in bugs.

Huh.

They don't seem like monsters in their own right, or anything from the sort of magic he knows— just… bugs. Actual ones.

Honestly, still kind of reminds him of that Muffet girl and her family— they look pretty similar too, just a bunch of tiny black splotches. He can see the way they scurry and perk up at the smell that hangs heavy in the air, about a dozen times more active and lively than the guy they're clinging to. Maybe even livelier than the both of them combined. He knows he isn't the most active or motivated guy on the block by any means.

Well. Guess this is just how he lives now. Thems the breaks.

"uh. right, s'cuse." Sans waves his hand at the dining table that's nearly completed its transformation into a scholar's desk almost flippantly while he turns the burner down, picking at the books strewn about with threads of blue magic. They shudder and lift from where they'd been resting in heavy piles in a small cascade, nudging and rearranging in an attempt to actually make himself some space at the table without ruining… whatever this guy passes for organization. The edge of a frown creep into his smile when he has to stop to catch a particularly large book out of the air, the grip of his blue magic slipping on it. It feels like he's a kid again with the way he can't even seem to properly manage such a fundamental part of himself— like forgetting how to turn a doorknob. Kind of annoying.

"oops." …Weird book. A treatise on the mechanics of ceneromancy. Sans squints at it— he gets about halfway through the motion of cracking it open out of plain curiosity before he remembers that it, in fact, is not his. And the guy who brought it in here is sitting right there watching him still. And he is definitely still busy with break-lunch-nner.

"…anyways." Sans puts it aside on a stool that's already carrying its fair share of books, a decent space finally available for his own use. He immediately commandeers it for his own things, a small stack of tupperware containers and metal utensils finding a home just opposite of Enki alongside the still half-full plastic bag they'd come out of.

"you guys hungry?" Sans has to hop to actually open the top cabinet, neck craned back as he scans through the contents. There should be actual bowls in here…

Why is there a book in the dish cabinet?

And he thought he was bad.

He has a warped sense of normalcy, because he'd spotted a skeleton around the space he'd been assigned, and thought absolutely nothing of it. A skeleton in the area? That made complete sense. The same thing limiting his invocation abilities had also limited his ability to command any kind of corpse- unfortunate but true. Despite it, he didn't think it was out of place for a skeleton to be roaming around the house. Occasionally he'd found he had raised the long dead in a dream state, and woke to have them purposelessly pacing around him.

So, he thought it was much the same and didn't at all acknowledge there might be a skeleton in the house.

Further, his books had crept in like a fast multiplying virus. There were so many so quickly, and partially because he had taken the time to set up a blood portal in his personal bedroom. The ease of access between every bookstore and library in the area meant the piles and piles of books had grown exponentially and with purpose that shouldn't even have been possible. There were books everywhere in the hoard, making complicated paths through the living space and spreading into every room, and rooms that were not even his.

So when he opened the door and smelled a fragrant layer of bouillon and mushroom, for the first time he had to contend with the thought that someone else actually lived in the space he was turning into his own personal library.

The attached dining space had become his own personal study, books crowding most of the spaces and a stack of paper with copious amounts of notes placed at the head of the table. Already in a short weak he'd rubbed pen nibs down to dry with the amount of observations he'd made and the books he'd read. Some of these books had actually been repeats from his own first study of the Grand Library, and only featured ad hoc in his notes a second time.

Entering the space, he set eyes on... a skeleton at the helm of the kitchen. The skeleton was midway through adding ingredients to a simmering pot when it spoke. Enki set the three books he had brought back with him down, and plucked seven up from the dining table to simultaneously clear a spot and fill his over the shoulder bag with returns.

"Interesting. You can speak."

And reason. And cook.

Why the skeleton was cooking, he wasn't exactly sure. The thin rake of a man looked exhausted, first and foremost. It wasn't due to any fatigue on his part, he had just been permanently branded with eyes that looked tired. His hair was white and spidery, and small black beetles that looked like little buttons moved over the coat he was wearing constantly. They also smelled the food and were excitedly whispering about what it could taste like.

"And reason. Hmm. I may have judged you without any mind at all. Otherwise I would have introduced myself."

More books were loaded into his shoulder back from the table. Whatever project he had been working on was complete, and he didn't need the literature in the way any longer.

"Enki Ankarian, necromancer and scholar. If you have any sort of familiarity with those things, you see my issue."

His skeletons very rarely held on to any shape of their past lives. There were rare instances of dancing skeletons and cognizant ghouls, but they were of course, terribly rare. The last one he had run into was twenty years ago, and it didn't display so much independent understanding of cause and effect.

[fontlocked]

Huh. She talks pretty funny. Guess all that capitalization has to go somewhere.

"hey, thanks." he catches the small pack without any issues— though he does have to resist the dire temptation to let them hit the ground and ask for her to get them for him a second time, find a good spot to shortcut to so he'd technically be taller than her. It'd be funny, but kind of a dick move.

They go right into his cart with the few other things he'd actually bothered to stop and pick up— calipers, a micrometer, a tape measure, a few cheap electronics he was mostly planning on gutting for their parts, some chalk and…

…Alright. Maybe he is up to something specific that isn't just the worldly concern of keeping his apartment intact. The inconsistency of his shortcuts are starting to really drive him up the wall— it isn't anything concrete, just… a passing thought, is all. Maybe he'll even be out of here before he ever even gets around to it. He's probably just wasting his time.

And it's definitely still weird not having some things. He should probably grab a hammer while he's still here.

"i said 'cache'," Sans clarifies completely unhelpfully with a wink.

"and, uh. say," He squints up at her, arms folded against the handle of the shopping cart. He's just the right height to rest his head on it. "you from the underground by any chance?"

He's never seen her before in his life, but hey. Maybe there's a spare robot that was just… running around somewhere that he hadn't noticed. It's starting to really feel like he's the only monster that was actually pulled out of that place at this rate.

Without her legion of servants around, Queen has to do her own hardware support. She's responsible for her share of the housework, too, and the house could always use with some home improvement.

And she does have a giant robot to rebuild... or she could build a bunch of smaller ones that fuse into a big one. Any way she slices it, she has a lot of work to do, and she can't get started without the right tools for the job.

She's looking over the screwdriver section when some little skeleton guy asks for her attention. Queen stares down at him for a moment, confused, until she realizes he means "can you bring that down for me."

* Sure No Problem

With her non-drink-holding hand, she takes the pack of screwdrivers, and is about to pass them to him until she realizes something...

* Wait Did You Say "Cache" Or "Catch" Just Now? * Either Way * "Cache"

She drops the screwdriver pack into his hands, assuming he doesn't pull away at the last second.

[fontlocked]

👀

“Oh, sans?

Sans is Frisk’s big buddy. Frisk adores him. Thinks he’s so funny and silly. I didn’t really trust him at first, but. . . he has never done anything to hurt Frisk. I trust him with that.

Huh? My friend, too? Oh, no no no. I do not think he would like me very much.”

[fontlocked]

👀

"Ughhh, I can't believe this guy. Does he think he's funny? He's just kind of a dick. Am I just sensitive? ... No, he is kind of an asshat? Glad you agree with me..."

Kris dragged their hands down their face, then puts their head in their hands.

"God, the worst part is he makes puns and after seeing how Mom was with him at the store- fuck she was definitely hitting on him, gross gross gross! The divorce isn't even cold yet! At least wait for the rigor mortis to set in!"

[fontlocked]

"woah there." He snorts at the play on words— intentional or otherwise on the guy's part, it's still funny. Talk about a deluge. He's been slowly getting kind of used to the whole six foot berth people give him around here— not whatever this is.

"you really wanna know?" He closes his eyes. "those're pretty big secrets, y'know. real big. but hey, you seem pretty trustworthy. you just gotta come here. closer…" Sans beckons them closer. And then keeps beckoning them until the guy is close enough to actually whisper in his ear.

"magic." A beautiful cop-out answer. Normally he's pretty content to just leave it there— this guy seems so… gung-ho about it, though. C'mon. He can't say no to that face.

"just kidding." he winks. "well. not kidding, but that's the short of it. yes, yes, uh— no," Sans hesitates for just a moment. "it was just me and my bro in the underground. apparently we've always been kind of rare before the whole," he shrugs and doesn't actually elaborate, "thing."

"and uh, nope, no zombies. probably. who knows?" Wait, what was that about making them?

@fontlocked !

"Okay, I'm dying to know how the whole skeleton thing works. Can you eat? Do you have to sleep? Are there a lot of skeletons where you're from? Oh! Are there zombies? We have zombies where I'm from. I even know how to make them!"

He's going to ask a thousand and one questions unless he's stopped. This is so interesting to him.

[fontlocked]

Wow.

They look pissed.

Wonder what for. It, uh. Feels kind of pointed with the way they're staring at him. They don't even seem particularly bothered by the whole talking skeleton thing, which has been a way too consistent problem he's had to deal with since showing up here. It's ridiculous how many places will refuse you service and lock the doors because of it.

...That aside, it honestly is sitting a little bit on his nerves after the whole... thing. They don't have the same look in their eye as the Human, but it's still close enough to be distinctly uncomfortable.

"pickles, chili, cheese, relish, uhh…" he side-eyes the contents of the fridge he'd set up earlier through a shortcut, not even trying to hide it. It isn't like anyone else can actually see all of that— it isn't even technically seeing, not really. More like… advanced feeling. With bonus color. "onion, mustard'n'ketch, lettuce. bbq." Not exactly an exhaustive list, but hey. He's a busy guy. Can't spend all of those valuable nap hours on fixing up stuff for a dinky little hotdog stand, can he?

"got hotcats too." Sans winks as he halfheartedly taps his fingers against the countertop, feeling down in the compartment of the stand for the hotanimals in question with his blue magic. He plops down one of the paper cartons onto the counter for the bun and the hot' to drop into as they float up into view, spinning aimlessly in the open air. They crinkle the paper already tucked inside of it when he dunks them in there, just a little bit askew.

…The hotdog has little triangle ears stuck on top and two black dots for eyes on one end. It sure is a cat. A hot one, even.

"huh?"

What Sans doesn't expect is for the strange kid to mention the underground. It hasn't exactly been the hottest topic ever, given that they're both on the surface and in, as far as he's aware, some kind of… bizarre in-between place. Somewhere that's completely divorced from the history he knows of, anyhow. Nary an underground to be seen.

"yep. sort of." He wiggles his mittened hand in a so-so motion. "close enough. you met the kids?" Those two seem to be pretty popular around here, to say the least. A lot of folks seem to know them, judging by the fact that this kid isn't exactly the first to go needling him about the pair. Guess they're pretty friendly.

Or maybe it's just the Human that's friendly. Chara still seems like the sort to turn tail and bite when they can— that isn't anything new, at least. The familiarity is nice, as old and stale as it is.

Sans poorly stifles a yawn. Doesn't really feel like he's slept at all. Guess he just needs to get a little more.

"welp. nice to meetcha."

Kris was, frankly, sick of being, well, sick. The food in Isola wasn't agreeing with them, and food from home was way too hard to come by and the stuff that they could find was basically the cheapest, bottom of the barrel slop that could be microwaved. They were kind of starting to really miss homecooked meals.

They'd tried to make something once, but... They're just glad their roommate was out when the smoke alarm - all of them - went off. They are not going to tell Tenna about that one. He worried enough about their eating habits as it was.

The park has a few little carts and stands scattered around, but, Kris has already been burned by a good chunk of them (and by burned, they meant they'd had awful stomach cramps afterwards). So they pretty much avoid the majority of them, only stopping at one to get a can of soda since drinks have yet to scorn them.

Fuck they should really eat something.

And it's the desperation of needing an actual meal that makes Kris not turn and walk the other direction when they spot the familiar blue hoodie manning a hotdog cart rather than a grocery store.

Ugh... it's this fuckin' guy.

Is there a silver-lining to this? At all? At least if he's here, he can't get cozy with Kris's mom and can't make things even more awkward back home. Still, kind of a pain that they have to see him... could be worse though. How? They'll have to get back to themselves about that one.

San greets them like he has no clue who Kris is and... part of them is kind of pissed off about that. He invades their home, makes their mom practically forget about them, kept them up all night because he and Toriel were laughing and dancing all night long, and can't even be assed to call them by their name or act... they didn't know how they wanted him to act.

Apologetic? Embarrassed? Maybe this isn't even the Sans from town. Maybe this is a different Sans, like from Frisk and Chara's world or something. If that's the case, being angry is pretty pointless.

So they try not to let their irritation and frustration show, expression flattening out as they just raise a hand in a passive greeting.

"Oh. Yeah, sure. Sounds good. What toppings you got?" They're honestly kind of expecting something to go wrong with this transaction as they pull out their phone. Maybe he's going to suddenly say he's out of 'dogs, or pull out a fucking balloon animal or something like that. They genuinely wouldn't be surprised.

It was stupid to get worked up over something like that; they normally loved a good joke and prank, but... maybe it was just always the worst time for Kris to interact with Sans. Maybe that's why they didn't find any of his jokes and shticks amusing

They're not actually very good at hiding the irritation, no matter how hard they try to. It still creeps up into their jaw, making their mouth tense.

"... Are you... from that underground place? The one that Chara and Frisk are from?" Kris asks, trying to justify calming down.

[fontlocked]

👀

Send 👀 for hot goss || ACCEPTING

"Oh, Sans?" Frisk smiles, and then looks... sad. Crestfallen.

"When I was on the surface at home, I saw him a couple times a week. We would make dumb puns together all the time just to piss off Papyrus, and-- oh Papyrus is his brother. But yeah, I miss him."

"He's here? Oh, yeah! Yeah I know! It's just. Um."

"Different."

[fontlocked]

👀

👀 - GOSSIP MEME || ACCEPTING

"…the human. yup." He won't even look at you. "i'm familiar."

"…they've got a good funnybone on them. real smart." The first thought that comes to him isn't of the Frisk he met at the crest of those floating islands. Of a kid with a big smile and an even bigger heart, all warm and gooey with these bright ideas of who he should have been.

It's... someone else.

He can still smell the dust in the air if he thinks too hard about it, cloying and heavy. Small footprints in the heavy snow, marching off towards Waterfall. It was so quiet.

Papyrus didn't listen to him.

...

"…welp. catch ya later." Sans stands up from where he'd been casually lounging with an abruptness he almost never seems to move with, tossing a halfhearted wave over his shoulder as he goes. He disappears the moment you take your eyes off of him, like he'd never been there in the first place.

[fontlocked]

👀?

👀 - GOSSIP MEME || ACCEPTING

"huh?" Sans clearly wasn't expecting the question— he's used to the topic of either of the royal children being a pretty awkward taboo for a very public conversation, even if it was mostly out of respect for the grieving king. Poor Asgore. Guy never did adjust all that well, did he?

"oh. chara? you know that kid too? that's funny, small world."

"yep, i knew them before. like, way before." He wiggles a hand in the air, back and forth in a lazy gesture. "i guess it's been… uh…"

He squints.

"about a century ago now? i was," he takes a very obvious, pointedly slow pause to count up the years on his mittened hands "sixteen, actually. funny kid, always peeking around people's legs like they thought they were invisible. i was kinda busy with work, but hey." he shrugs. "a pal's a pal, right?"

"…so. you gonna buy a 'dog?"

[fontlocked]

The kid looks way more worried about this than Sans anticipated, brow furrowed with what is, as far as he's concerned, misplaced worry. He's used to having to work a lot harder than this to pick up what the kid was feeling— it's almost uncanny how expressive they can be all of a sudden. It makes them look a lot younger than his memory demands, a face fit for the children's stripes.

"uh… yep. pretty sure."

Sans pulls himself through a slow, deep breath, air uselessly whistling down the pocket of his open neck. Guess a year is a pretty long time to know someone for a kid. Must be kinda awkward, at least.

"so. a whole year, huh? that's crazy." he glances away, just for a moment. "you get up to anything? c'mon, catch me up. i'm clearly missing out over here, kid." It feels like a pretty weak redirection, but hey. Basically nobody ever notices if he sounds curious.

And, he finds, he actually is interested on some level. It's new territory— basically everything here has been. It feels a little like overindulging on something achingly sweet, taking and taking until something has to give. Until he rots from the inside out. Sans could probably go for holing himself up in his room for a week or two at this rate, just a bit of doing absolutely nothing. It's all just a bit…

Much.

Still, he's got a few questions of his own up his sleeves that ought to be asked. And a few personal curiosities to be sated.

"make any new friends?" The Human… Frisk. They actually seem the type this time around. In this place, at least.

The second Sans mentions Chara, Frisk feels like they're on the defense. Through all of their resets, whether they were completely innocent or otherwise, Sans never knew about Chara. Never knew that when they fought in the RUINS, it was Chara controlling them, Frisk pushed far back and unable to--.

No, maybe, maybe he just met them in Spirale earlier.

Frisk chews on their bottom lip, emotions worn on their sleeve. They look concerned yet wary, but also... worried. Just what was Sans' story?

Frisk wasn't sure they wanted to know.

"A week..." They mutter quietly, trying to remember just how long actually passed between some of their resets. Certain ones lasted months, the two taking their time going through and making sure every person was spared, every problem was solved. Some only took a week, and one... Took barely 24 hours.

"Are you sure...? You're not... playing another prank, right? I don't like this one if you are..." They say, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden change in atmosphere.