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Who: Sans and Miles (and Steven + Papyrus!)
When: 21st
Where: Harashan, to start.
What: The first bimonthly meeting of the itty bitty brittle bones committee.
Warnings: An excess of determination.

Emiri was, in Sans' opinion, one of the last places he wanted to be. The travel ban was frustrating enough without the obvious unrest quite literally written on the walls of Harashan, warning all passersby of whatever vague threat Link'd Inc. posed. If Sans was sure of one thing, it's that they should have left long ago.

But hey! He was just the janitor, right? Who was he to meddle in the affairs of those much, much higher up the food chain. It sounded like a whole lot of effort. Better to leave it to the Miles Vorkosigans of the world and keep his nasal bone out of other people's business. It was a good, solid plan. For a little while, anyway.

"Sir?"

Sans looked up lazily from where he leaned against the wall, unsurprised to see the voice belonged to some sort of police officer. Beaming, Sans hoped he looked as unassuming as he felt.

"Morning, officers." He saluted, grateful he thought to wear his Moira uniform today. Whatever distance he could get from this local conflict, the better. "Just taking in some air."

They gestured to the wall directly behind him, diving immediately into a series of rapid fire questions. Sans filtered them out easily enough, turning to squint at the graffiti. Something about the children. After his run in with a little girl in St. Murtel, Sans couldn't really blame the city for getting antsy about protecting its kids. That said: still really, really not his problem.

Unfortunately, the police disagreed. Pretty forcefully, actually. Any attempts to explain that, no, Sans was not responsible for the cryptic message were met with disbelief at best and veiled threats at worst. Getting dusted on this hellhole, where his brother would never know what happened to him? That wasn't an option. Resisting in any way wasn't an option.

The holding cell was about as hospitable as you could imagine, but Sans thanked the guards with all the veiled contempt he could muster. None of them appreciated his crack about cell phones. Their loss. What Sans did know is that he would eventually be led out of the holding cell, into a much smaller room, and then questioned in regards to his involvement with the Komai.

The tone used wasn't very reassuring.

So, really, what better time to catch a nap?

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After a series of very unfortunate events, the local authorities had a couple more suspicious characters to detain and process. Papyrus, for his part, went quietly. He didn't want to make more trouble for them, especially when Steven was clearly already upset.

Once both were in the cell and locked in, Papyrus pressed his skull against the bars and tried to peek down the hall. He felt awful. He'd never been to jail in his life; he'd always been such a good person. He had tried several times to explain to them what had happened, to clear things up, but each attempt had ended with a rough shove and an order to be quiet; they would be the ones asking questions in due time.

"W...wowie," he said, trying to sound at least a little bit upbeat. "This will make one heck of a story once we're out, won't it?"

Steven would usually be trying to join him in that attempt, but he can't quite seem to manage it right now. They'd had to cuff him on the way over due to the amount of trouble he was giving them, which had only made his anxieties worse - the stress brings on a total change in his disposition, going from an even tempered child to a terrified animal within a half hour.

People trying to contain him brings everything he tries to keep away from right back to the forefront of his mind. All the fear, all the paranoia, and all the pain. It paralyzes him in a way that nothing else can, and in that absence of control his monster side takes over, fighting for survival and little else. The take the cuffs off when they drop them off in their cell, and all that Steven does is bolt into the cell only to curl up in one of its corners, yeowling discontent and watching the guards warily until they leave.

Inside, he is deeply embarrassed and ashamed. Back in Ryslig, everyone understood why this sort of thing happened to them, because they'd all been through it. Through Papyrus is technically a monster, its nearly impossible to imagine him devolving into this kind of wildness. Steven has managed to avoid hurting anyone, but he knows it's a near miss - especially when he can still feel the craving for meat lurking in his senses.

He doesn't speak at first, still too unfocused and too humiliated by his own behaviour. This probably isn't what Papyrus expected out of him at all. His tail thrashes violently, working out excess agitation, his face tucked low behind his arms from down beneath the cell's bench.

The change in Steven isn't lost on Papyrus, who glances back at him now and then while keeping a lookout for anyone. An officer he can explain their situation to, a friendly face from the ship, his brother. Funny, even though Sans is the last person he'd expect to see and he's totally embarrassed to have gotten himself thrown in jail, he wants to see him. Funny, it's been awhile since he thought of himself as a kid, but his first instinct is still to turn to big brother when he's in trouble.

But nobody's coming, and he doesn't feel like he can leave Steven alone much longer. He abandons the bars and kneels beside him, steering clear of the tail, unsure if he should touch him. Usually when he's handling someone having a bad time, it's Sans, and he knows all of his tricks backwards and forwards. Steven's still a puzzle to him in some ways. "Hey, look," he begins, "it's going to be all right. You were only trying to protect everyone, and it's only a matter of time before they realize! And in the meantime, you're in the company of the great Papyrus! So things couldn't possibly be that bad."

For the first few moments, Steven's eyes don't even settle on Papyrus, too distracted with watching the bars for any signs of someone coming back to mess with them. Gradually, though, he manages to steady himself enough to look up at his friend, his tails movements slowing a little in turn. The green in his eyes has become so deep that it's hard to tell his iris from his sclera.

His leafy ears perk up and then fold down again, uncertainly. It takes him a moment to speak, but he gets there, and when he does it's unsteady but as friendly as he can make it.

"I know," he says, his words slightly more chittery than usual. "I...I'm just scared that I'll..." He trails off. There's a lot of things that could be. Scared that he'll lose control of himself and hurt someone. Scared that the people here will hurt him. Once upon a time he wouldn't have believed that he could have possibly been punished unfairly, but that is not longer true.

Papyrus doesn't fully understand what he's looking at here -- monsters with transformation magic exist in his world, of course, and Steven's shifting doesn't shock him that much, but the behavior that comes with it is harder to explain. It's like parts of his soul become temporarily obscured, a phenomenon he can't quite explain.

So he doesn't dwell on it.

"Nonsense!" Papyrus pats his head and gives him another bright smile. "You're perfectly safe, and I'm right here with you! What we need is something different to think about until we're released. What about the band? Did you have more ideas for that?"

Steven's hair is soft and mossy and probably pretty pleasant to pet, no matter how prickly the rest of the kid may seem at the moment. There's a couple of moments pause, and then a soft exhale as he tries to balance himself. He offers a small smile.

Papyrus is wrong, but for the moment that's okay.

"I asked a bunch of people if they wanted to play with us. Peridot didn't really know what music was, but...I think she'll come around. Did you know what kind of thing you want to play?"

"Oh, I think I've met Peridot! They were very... grammatically sound." He wasn't sure what else to think of someone as relentlessly straightforward, but he'd enjoyed their conversation. "I was thinking... the guitar! It's like the essence of coolness itself, therefore it'd be perfect for me."

He laughs a little, soft and sort of awkward, but he's trying. He's still has more feral instincts clawing for attention at the back of his mind.

"That sounds like her! She can be sort of mean, but I'm working on her. I think she just needs some friends, is all." His expression brightens a bit at the guitar part, though. "But guitar is awesome, it's one of my favourite...they gave me this really cool looking electric one, you should totally play it!"

"Well! If that's all she needs, then consider it done! After all, being friendly is our job, and we're very good at it!" Papyrus dropped Steven a wink. The kid was still worked up, but he seemed to be calming more as they spoke. And truthfully, having Steven to focus on was making his very first time behind bars so much more bearable. He didn't want to think of how much harder it would be to stay cheerful if there wasn't someone around to see him do it.

But then the vitally important matter of a super cool electric guitar came up, and he lost all other trains of thought. "Wowie... really? You'll let me play your very cool guitar? Steve, that's so... I'm very... thank you! I promise I'll be careful with it!!"

"Yeah! I'll show you when we get back to the ship, okay?" The smile stays a bit more easily this time. Papyrus gets so excited about stuff, it's contagious. (Lo and behold, the same emotion a lot of other people feel around Steven.) He settles down onto the floor, a bit more comfortable. He's still sort of curled up like a cat, but less like a cat that's going to swap you.

"I've never seen one like it before. They gave me a harp, too...like, a really big one, taller than me! I wanna teach myself to play it, so I'll be learning, too."

--and the pair were back in a jail cell.

"Oof." Sans muttered, getting up to his feet stiffly. Blind teleportation had its drawbacks, but Miles' estimation of the location coupled with his preexisting knowledge of the cell layouts left them (thankfully) not stuck in any walls and in the right cell.

Unfortunately, they also spawned in a few feet off the ground. Rookie mistake on his part.

"You okay, man?" Miles had that arm to worry about, after all. Once he got confirmation the guy didn't break something else in the process, Sans looked up at their new cellmates.

"'Sup."

Before Miles is even aware of what's happening, he's crashing to the hard floor of the cell, landing, with great and terrible luck, on his broken arm with a strangled yelp. Crawling around air ducts on a hairline fracted arm he can grit his teeth and bear, but he didn't even have any warning. Clutching at his arm, he glowers up at Sans from the floor in outraged incredulity.

"Are you frigging kidding me?" he snarls through his teeth, painfully palpating his arm to make sure the fracture hasn't been displaced. Well, it sure as hell hurts more now. "You could have transported us out of there at any time, and you had me crawling on a broken arm through half the building's ducts, you son of a bitch -- "

He catches a glimpse of color and form at the upper periphery of his vision and brings himself up short. Right. The reason Sans teleported them in here. "Ah," Miles says, pale face transforming into a bleak smile as he tilts his head back to look at them upside-down. "Hello, Papyrus. Oh, and Steven's with you, wonderful." He lets go of his arm to give a flourishing wave and immediately regrets it. "Your rescue party has arrived."

Steven is shocked at the sudden appearance, and in his current state of near agitation it makes all his leaves perk up like an scared cat. It only lasts a moment, though, because then he sees who it is.

"Sans!" he yelps in surprise, and immediately leaps over in his direction to give him a hug. He's so relieved that they aren't alone in here that he isn't even questioning his gut impulses even a little. He pulls away, though, upon realizing that Miles is hurt.

"Oh no, your arm is broken?" He scurries over, already trying to get a look. "Can I see? I think I can help you!"

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MEANWHILE, IN ANOTHER PART OF THE JAIL...

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2/2 (1/2 above!) How's about a sans --> miles --> steven --> papyrus order?

THUMBS UP

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