Entry tags:
video; what's gonna be left of the world if you're not in it
[Sans has something in his hands. It's a bolt of fabric that he runs between his metacarpals with a distant, unfocused precision, something to idly turn between his phalanges as he speaks. Might take a moment to realize that the backdrop to his video ain't the typical one. It's not his room he's sitting in, after all. He's reclining atop a racecar bed. The sheets are perfectly made, as though the owner were planning on returning at some point. On the bedside table, there's a small stack of belongings that clash rather astutely with the layout of the place. A snowglobe, a binder, an ECHOcomm, and at the very far right of the frame, a folded-up sweater vest.
He dropped in to visit some pals of his, you see. Only to find they ain't around anymore.]
For those of you who knew 'em, seems the docs've gone home. You know the ones. Newt and Hermann. [A pause.] Dr. Gottlieb.
[Being a pain in the coccyx suddenly gets to be less funny when there ain't anybody to yell at you about it, huh?]
Hope it's home they went, and not, uh...wherever it was before they got here. Yao know what I'm talkin' about.
[He folds up the cloth in his hands and stands up, grinning at the camera without a lick of despair. Maybe there's somethin' a bit tired to the whole facade, but who can say? He's always tired.]
I hate to tell ya, but it looks like my bro might'a been the guy to slack off for once. Funny, right? Takin' that hard-earned title from yours truly. Here I thought I was supposed to be the guy who nips off without a word.
[Those with sharp eyes might pick up that the cloth ain't just any old thing. It's Papyrus's sash delineating him as an official member of the City Guard - twice torn, twice mended, and now without an owner. Like hell Sans is cut out to wear a thing like this.]
'Pologies to the Guard. Looks like you're one member short. 'Fraid I can't help ya there either; Papyrus, he's got some big shoes to fill.
[He winks at the lens before reaching for the communicator and then, almost as an afterthought, adds:]
Someone ought'a take care of the lab the docs built. Lotta their stuff's still in there, too, and lyin' around my place. Figure it should go to the people who knew 'em best.
[Y'know, whoever that is. But you all know who you are, don't ya?
Yeah. He'd think so.
He cuts the feed.]
He dropped in to visit some pals of his, you see. Only to find they ain't around anymore.]
For those of you who knew 'em, seems the docs've gone home. You know the ones. Newt and Hermann. [A pause.] Dr. Gottlieb.
[Being a pain in the coccyx suddenly gets to be less funny when there ain't anybody to yell at you about it, huh?]
Hope it's home they went, and not, uh...wherever it was before they got here. Yao know what I'm talkin' about.
[He folds up the cloth in his hands and stands up, grinning at the camera without a lick of despair. Maybe there's somethin' a bit tired to the whole facade, but who can say? He's always tired.]
I hate to tell ya, but it looks like my bro might'a been the guy to slack off for once. Funny, right? Takin' that hard-earned title from yours truly. Here I thought I was supposed to be the guy who nips off without a word.
[Those with sharp eyes might pick up that the cloth ain't just any old thing. It's Papyrus's sash delineating him as an official member of the City Guard - twice torn, twice mended, and now without an owner. Like hell Sans is cut out to wear a thing like this.]
'Pologies to the Guard. Looks like you're one member short. 'Fraid I can't help ya there either; Papyrus, he's got some big shoes to fill.
[He winks at the lens before reaching for the communicator and then, almost as an afterthought, adds:]
Someone ought'a take care of the lab the docs built. Lotta their stuff's still in there, too, and lyin' around my place. Figure it should go to the people who knew 'em best.
[Y'know, whoever that is. But you all know who you are, don't ya?
Yeah. He'd think so.
He cuts the feed.]

[text]
I suppose no one could say they went hungry.
[Or liked meat afterwards. Also the black humor returns.]
Colder.
[Chara will turn this into 'Hot and Cold', don't test them. And they're also not watching their front door either.]
[text]
i'm a stupid doo-doo butt.
[They'd already a notion about his secret codeword, he's willing to wager. And anyway, he's got a secret secret codeword just incase they didn't.]
[text]
Also Chara can't resist this.]
Accurate, but no.
I will give you a hint however.
It starts with a 'P'.
[text]
[What? He thinks it's funny.]
[text]
Still, it takes them an extra minute to respond.]
I'd say that was tear-able but we both know there is no point.
But if you wish to be let in, the correct word is 'please'.
[Don't say they never tell you things.]
[not sent]
[He types it out before it catches up to him. Poor taste, even for him. Coiling sickeningly in his ribcage like a curse, and that'd just sink the knife in, givin' it a little twist, as if they need a reminder of
any of it.]
[text]
whoops.
guess that'll teach me to bark up the wrong plea.
[text]
That was true. But neither of them are particularly healthy individuals.]
As long as you have seen the air-ors of your way, I suppose.
The metaphorical door is open.
[text]
[Wow, what the hell is he doing]
[text]
Perhaps. But it is your choice to come.
[They'll leave it up to Sans. The apartment is...clean, so there isn't anything to worry about in that department.]
[text]
Habit, maybe.]
your partner?
[text]
But at the end of the day they're also tired and are in possession of a Sans's sized couch.]
They are not here at the moment.
However you will have to endure more knock knock jokes if you come.
[Fair warning.]
[text] --> [action]
[What's he doing.
Apparently, he's ending up outside the kids' place in the absence of anywhere else to go, because lookin' at that immaculately made bed and the way his lounging on it left divets on the sheets, rumpling everything and messing it up from Papyrus's careful spread - it was gettin' to be unbearable.
He knows better than this. Alphys deserves better than this.
But regardless, this is where he ends up.
So.
Knock knock.]
[action]
Not that Chara would know about them.
They check the copies before going to the door. So.
Here we are.]
Who's there?
[action]
Certain places he's never been.]
Lettuce.
[action]
Still though, you can still enjoy what little time you have left. Like knock knock jokes even though Chara said the door was open.
Or that this feels somewhat familiar.]
Lettuce who?
[action]
[No it ain't. And what's the cold matter to a guy who's just bones anyway? It don't. But it's the principle of the thing, and the point of a punchline.
Everyone's laughing.]
[action]
Considering you live in Snowdin, I am surprised that you are not used to the weather.
[They're not sure if that counts as toeing a line. Mentioning home where Papyrus lived - used to? Who knows. Either way, they step back to let him walk in.]
Knock knock.
[Chara did say he'd have to suffer though a few more, did they not?]
[action]
Snow problem. Some flurry-ous weather back home, but we don't gotta worry 'bout that here.
[He enters, but the jokes keep coming. He wouldn't have it any other way. Leans up against the wall with his hands buried in his pockets, the sash still caught between metacarpals, fingertips dragging at the cloth in an unintentional, repetitive motion.]
Who's there?
[action]
At the same time, however, Chara knows they can't regret it either. Once again Asriel saved their life.]
Woo!
[This was one of the dumber ones and they have to channel Frisk for it. But that part's easy.]
[action]
Woo who?
[action]
But a laugh is a laugh even if the punchline hits before the joke is done. And while they aren't going to say it to Sans's face, Chara is used to being laughed at. But those types of thoughts are not what either of them are here for. Chara's impression of Frisk and the way that they drop all emotion from their voice.]
Don't get too excited it's just a knock knock joke. I know you are fond of them Sans, but try to keep it on the down-low as to not disturb the neighbors.
[I mean really. A little consideration goes a long way.]
[action]
My mistake. Where're my manners?
[That one's the joke, see; he's got no manners to speak of, and no manner of keepin' track of 'em even if he did.
Silly jokes and one-liners and quips - they're all well and good. But he owes 'em more than that, don't he?]
Sorry to barge in. Guess I just, uh...last time I screwed somethin' up, I ended up here. Feels like somethin' I should do.
[Feels - safe.
Well, it feels like somethin' he should do.]
[action]
Yet here they both are. It's not perfect, but for an apathetic skeleton and a broken child...it works. * It ends with both of us.
They're also tempted to point out that both times were not Sans's fault. He couldn't have controlled the events of Confusions's resurrection no more than he could control who was and wasn't sent back home. Papyrus had mentioned to Chara that they all arrived on the Surface. It felt like something was clawing chunks out of their heart whenever Chara thought about it but at least he had something to go back to. Something happy for someone happy. But that loops back to apologizes and Chara would have to start making jokes about pencils and pointlessness. So no. Instead they just talk.]
Do not worry about it. I have always been the one with poor impulse control, so it's easy to understand. And it's not as if you took a shortcut without prior notice.
[Now that might have gotten ugly. But no one needs to know about that.]
[action]
If you want to do right by Chara, you'll finish what they started.
...
He don't believe it. Call it a personal failing of his, but he still don't buy it. Maybe they wouldn't hesitate, if they all got snapped back to the life and the world they lived before all this. Maybe they'd keep going, cleave through him, send the world spiraling to its termination like the reports stated.
Maybe they wouldn't hesitate.
He knows now without question that he would.]
Nah, I know. Just a bit much bein' in there right now.
[The place is gonna go to hell in a handbasket right quick, without anybody to clean up his and Alphys's collective messes. They'll never hear Papyrus's contented, no-indoor-voice GOOD MORNING! announcements or his good-natured grumbling at how long it takes for Sans to get up, and it'll settle over the house like a funerary shroud.
Not all that appropriate.
So instead he ends up on the doorstep of a kid who, god help him, has come to be somethin' of a friend. Despite everything he's done, everything they've done.
It's absurd.]
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