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

[skelepun]

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! ]

Comments

[skelepun]

There's a warm feeling in Sans' ribs, and he's not sure the ketchup is solely to blame. The mention of a girlfriend -- and a non-human one to boot, good for him -- draws a soft chuckle out of the skeleton, bones rattling faintly.

"Here." He tossed a few packets towards Nico, grinning. "Consider it a toast to loyal friends."

[vengeance_driven]

He nodded and took the ketchup packets. Well, wasn't his usual choice of libation, but he'd accept that. He opened the top of it.

"You got a girl back home? Or boy? Or whatever. I guess there are more options out there." He gestures to and fro with said packet.

[skelepun]

Nico's wasn't the first human Sans offered ketchup to, but he was certainly the first to accept. Sans couldn't help feeling immediately more at ease.

Sure, Nico was human. Sure, his soul was heavy with LOVE. But... it could be worse. After all, he could be the kind of guy who turned up his nose at sugary tomato and vinegar paste.

"Me? Nah." Sans chuckles, a little wistful. "Those things have a way of not working out where I'm from. My priorities always went to other things."

It's cryptic, but nevertheless the truth. Hard to stay in a relationship when time was just going to reset itself back to zero again.

"That kid, for example."

Probably shouldn't have said that. Whoops. Sans didn't have a tongue, but ketchup sure had a way of loosening it anyway.

[vengeance_driven]

Nope, Niko was an Old World boy offered a drink from a friend and he was taking it, even if it seemed nonsensical. And as Sans was speaking, he did indeed squeeze that ketchup packet into his mouth. When in Rome or whatever.

"Had to watch out for him even at home, huh?" He asked, wadding up the packet when he was through and putting it in his pocket, and then opening up the next one.

It seemed, though, somewhere in there Sans was a romantic. He heard that note of wistfulness. Niko was one, too, and wondered if there was someone that the squat skeleton man had missed a chance with, by necessity or misfortune. ...Or both. Seemed to be the luck of a lot of people.

[skelepun]

"Better believe it." Sans nods, between emptying another packet into his mouth. It drips down his ribs, sticking to them underneath his hoodie and uniform. He was going to have to wash everything again tonight -- a nightly occurrence when so little food on the ship was magical. "Over and over again. Could never seem to get rid of the kid."

Of course, he's sure that wasn't always a bad thing. Not that he could remember any of those timelines. Too bad.

"How 'bout you?" Sans raised another ketchup packet, in a sort of odd toast. "Anyone aboard the ship that loves pissing in your cornflakes at every opportunity?"