thisavrou_log | in the words of thomas jefferson, "what'd i miss?"

Who: Sans & YOU
When: The 24th, spanning from early in the morning to the evening
Where: All around the ship
What: Sans is back! It is unclear to him at this point what "back" means, both for him and for everyone else.
Warnings: Alcohol (er, well, ketchup, but y'know), Undertale spoilers out the wazoo

Groggy doesn't begin to describe. Sans knows groggy, like any guy who spends most of his life exactly that. No, this feels as if someone methodically stuffed his skull with cotton until it was fit to crack.

In other words, he has a headache.

Rolling up out of (bed? If it was, it looked more clinical than comfortable) wherever he was, Sans took a moment to take stock of his surroundings. For one, he wasn't dead. Guess the kid finally reset after all, and further back than he expected. To that point, there are his memories to consider. Much like the first time he awoke after death on the Moira, his memories were all exactly where he left them. The feeling of disintegrating, the indescribable expression on the kid's face, the slice of their knife...

No, not knife. Cup. It was a cup this time. Heh. What a way to go.

Yawning, Sans shakes out the last of his stiffness. One of the upsides to losing your memories each reset was blending in. When your brain simply reloaded, it knew exactly what to do and where to be. Like this, Sans has no idea what day it is, let alone if he's got a mess duty or not.

And people wonder why he takes such relish in laziness. It makes for great cover when the world decides to rewind and leave you stranded.

Papyrus would know -- he always knows exactly where Sans is supposed to be and how late he is getting there. With a bounce in his step, Sans steps outside with the intention of finding his brother.

closed to papyrus; outside cryo

He doesn't have to look very far.

"... Bro?"

Papyrus is parked outside the cryo lab, deliriously going over a puzzle book. The page he's on appears to have already been solved... twice? No, three times. Incorrectly, correctly, and then incorrectly again. Huh. For once, his little brother's superior perception seems at a loss -- he doesn't appear to notice Sans' presence at all.

Leaning against a wall, Sans is content to watch for a while -- though his smile can't help tightening when he notices just how out of sorts Papyrus looks.

"Figure out this page many more times and you'll need an upgrade to the senior scramble, bro."

ota; around cryo/halls/nomo deck

Parting ways with his brother, Sans rubs at his eye socket. The exchange was... bizarre, even for the two of them. All the component parts were right, but they wouldn't fit together. His brother scolded him for his laziness, encouraged him to shake a leg to work, talked at length about his exploits around the ship...

All together, it should be normal. But then Sans thinks about how he fell asleep right there against the wall, how tired he looked before that, how bone deep his exhaustion seemed to penetrate, and it's not right. Something happened, and Papyrus isn't telling him. Then again, he didn't ask. They really were the poster children of talking about their feelings, weren't they.

Hands shoved deep in his pockets, brow bone furrowed deep in thought, Sans makes his way in the direction of his room. Maybe he could find some answers there about where the reset spat him out...

closed to miles; his office

Welp.

Welp.

Sans doesn't bother mincing words. He doesn't bother walking, either, teleporting with careless agility. It's a miracle he doesn't wind up in another wall.

"Miles!" He barks, in a tone entirely unlike any Miles (or, well, most people) has heard from him. "I know you're in there, I can hear you being smug from out here."

closed to roomies; nomo deck

It couldn't have been more than half a day since Sans woke up. Revived? Jeez, this was a mess. And despite reality, it feels like thirty years by the time Sans drags himself into his bedroom. It's cleaner than he remembers. But then again, why wouldn't it be, his roommates have had more than enough time to adjust to life without him. Won't they be disappointed.

No, that was mean. Sans takes a moment to regard his bunk. Someone went to the trouble of making it (by who, he can't be sure -- well, no, he's sure it wasn't J), and Sans feels a tinge of regret as he promptly messes it up again.

One veggie burrito, heavy on the calcium, coming right up.

ota; gardens

Things don't really start to sink in until he looks his blueprints. Even then, they don't sink so much as tie an anchor around his middle and hurl him overboard.

He needs to be alone.

A step, a quick calculation, and he gets his wish.

The tree in the garden is tall, but Sans never appreciated how tall until finding himself perched at the top of its canopy. The trees are sparse and thin enough up here to be dangerous, but Sans doesn't weigh much to begin with. And even if they did snap, would it matter?

It would, his mind reminds him, it would matter more than it has in a long, long time.

No, Sans decides. He's not going to think about that. He's going to go through all the tree jokes he knows until he's either laughing or asleep.

What did the tree wear to the pool party? Swimming trunks.

(There are no resets. There might never be another reset.)

What did the beaver say to the tree? It's been nice gnawing ya.

(Time marches on here, with or without you -- no, with you, because they'll keep bringing you back and taking pieces until there's nothing left. No more do-overs, not for you, or him, or them, or anyone.)

How do you identify a dogwood tree? By its bark.

(You can't afford not to care anymore, but do you even remember how to care? To really try?)

Why did the tree get a timeout? It was being knotty.

"Heh... knotty." Sans chuckles from on high, oblivious to anyone below his perch. "Gotta use that."

[ ooc: i'll match action or prose, gimme whatcha got! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

With a shuffling sound, Sans' skull pops out from where its thoroughly ensconced in sheets.

There's a beat of silence, and whether Sans is considering how to answer or merely surprised to see him, it's lost in a pensive stare in Ryan's direction.

"... Heh. S'alright." He makes his burrito vertical, still staring with a sort of bemused wonder. "I oughta thank you."

That's alright; he's pretty used to being stared at (though he does have to briefly break eye contact for a moment there, unable to quite keep it up himself). Ryan meets it with a half-smile, one side of his mouth twitching up.

"For what? Have I been doing your share of the cleaning?" His smile widens a bit, a little warmer. "Y'know, if your brother hadn't told me, I wouldn't ever have known you were supposed to be helping with that. Never seen it happen."

For a half second, it looks as if Sans might actually explain the gratitude. For being casual, for giving him a little oasis of comfort where he could ignore everything else buzzing in his skull, for the jokes.

But he doesn't. Probably because it seems like Ryan might already know.

"Heh, got it in one, pal." Rolling onto his back, Sans let his head flop off the end of his mattress. "Uh... how was he? Papyrus, I mean. When you guys talked."

"He was-" Ryan hums softly under his breath, considering. He's not going to lie about anything here, but a little care with phrasing never hurts.

"He seemed like he needed some distraction. Little on edge, maybe, at least compared to the first time we talked, but- cheerful enough." One shoulder shrugs as he adds, "I tried not to pry much."

"Good of you," Sans nods, meaning it, for all he sounds newly sick to his stomach. The one thing he swore to himself he'd never do, leaving his little brother alone, and here he was. How many more promises was he set to break, exactly? His track record was looking worse by the day.

"Thanks for telling me." He pauses a moment. "And for bein' sweet to him."

"Hard not to be. He's a nice guy, y'know? Most people don't get nearly as excited over-- well, anything I do."

But he'd sounded downright fascinated, talking about the cards. Ryan's expression softens into something sort of fond as he pushes himself to his feet, pausing to scoop Ophelia off the sofa; it may well look like he's carrying an armful of nothing, though. The downsides of your cat being a ghost.

"And I kind of try not to make a habit of not telling people things," he says on the way to his own bunk, "I'm a bad liar anyway. 'Sides, you asked."

Well hell if Ryan wasn't saying all the right things. Sans looks noticeably happier at his praise and even a little more awake.

Of course, the longer that buoyed happiness last, the further Sans' face seems to tighten when he remembers the circumstances surrounding Ryan's kindness.

"Heh... you oughta teach me that sometime. I'm not great at it."

"Teach you what, being shit at lying?"

One brow quirks as he settles on the edge of the bunk, nudging aside a yarn ball to make room. While he scratches behind Ophelia's ears, he gestures with his free hand, holding up one finger.

"Step one, anxiety." Another finger. "Step two, don't talk to people in person." His hand drops back to his lap as he finishes, "Combine those for at least a few years and you're good. I mean, you might also suck at being social in general, but it's a proven method, yeah?"

Maybe the smile's a bit self-deprecating, but it's still there, and his tone's still light enough. Step three in the social process: make fun of yourself every so often, otherwise you'll just be kinda miserable about it.

Self-deprecation or not, Sans actually does find it in himself to laugh. There's nothing really funny about sarcasm, not when you get down to its roots, but commiseration is always a good reason to laugh.

"I tried that once. Protip: having a brother kinda throws a wrench in things." Not that Sans sounds even remotely unhappy about that fact. A little wistful, perhaps, but not unhappy. "Do you have any family, Ry?"

"Uh, kinda? I mean- well, yeah. Yeah, I do."

It's- not his favorite topic, even if he doesn't exactly mind questions, and he hesitates a little longer than he really means to while he figures out just how to put it.

"We're... estranged, I guess? Stayed in contact, but I wasn't close with any of them." Ryan shrugs one shoulder, a little awkwardly. "Mostly just talked to them on important dates, y'know?"

While his family was only ever two people, him and Papyrus, Sans never felt he wanted for love. Even when things were hard, Papyrus was an unflagging source of strength for him.

The idea of only talking to his brother a few times a year -- or rather, only wanting to -- was downright alien.

Far be it from him to judge, though.

"That... sucks? I think? I'm not sure, are they jerks?"

"It's not like that, it's just kind of-- it's complicated," he mutters, with a small shake of his head. From what he can tell, Sans and Papyrus have way more of a relationship than he's had with his own family in a long time, and honestly, he's not sure if there's too much of a disconnect there for either side to really get it.

Still.

"They're decent people and all, and I know they care and that they think they've done the right things. They just also don't believe in anything supernatural, which-- is really awkward when you see dead people."

Ah.

That would be awkward.

Sans shucks a hand up at the back of his skull, scratching idly. Family is hard. Sometimes the more you have, the less it feels like you have. Sans can only assume, anyway. He's only ever been in the opposite position.

"Heh, yeah, I can see how that could be a problem." His smile turns gentler, less awkward. "I love my brother, but he can get pretty disappointed in me sometimes too. I'm not saying I get it, my bro's amazing and I wouldn't trade him, but I think I can kinda understand a little bit."

He considers arguing it, for a moment. There's a kneejerk reaction in his head-- no, you really wouldn't-- and Ryan is quiet while he lets that process, just watching him thoughtfully. Maybe a little critically.

In the end, he just gives Sans a half-hearted smile in return and shifts to flop onto his back, exhaling heavily as he hits the mattress.

"Yeah. Maybe. You didn't subscribe to all my issues, though," he says, waving it off with an idle gesture. "I'm not keeping you up or anything, am I?"

It's hard to read body language in the dark, but nevertheless Sans can tell when he's accidentally trod on a nerve. There have been times in the past where he's tested the limits of a person intentionally -- you can learn much more from someone frustrated with you than a friend -- but this was not one of those times. Sans' sockets softened, edged with sympathy.

"Hehe, nah, I've got my own news stand to deal with." He waves Ryan off, dismissing his second question out of hand. "If I could sleep right now, I would be, trust me."

in the words of thomas jefferson, "what'd i miss?"

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