with scarves of red tied 'round their throats

[skelepun]

Who: Sans + lots of people + YOU
When: Throughout March
Where: Around the Moira, not so much planetside
What: Catchall for march + come get drunk with a skeleton
Warnings: Alcoholism, probably some general nihilism bullshit. it's sans, so, y'know.



(( if you would like a top level, please let me know via PM or contacting me on plurk at safelybeds ))

Comments

[inruins]

"Not often. I'm not much of a drinker." She rests her elbows calmly against the bar, smiling amusedly back at the flushed skeleton. She had to admit it was... rather nice to see him flustered. Charming in its own way. "I felt like today could be a nice day for a drink."

Her gaze only drifts to the bartender, when she catches his eye she orders. When finished her gaze drifts back to Sans. "Looking for a replacement for Grillbys?" Toriel thinks she's got the name right. She's only really heard Sans talk about it, never actually visited the establishment.

[skelepun]

"Uh, I guess, a little bit." Could he just sink into his hoodie? Or better yet, just remove his skull completely and send it hurtling out of the bar. Yeah, that sounds good. Too bad the effort would probably kill him. "They don't really serve food here though, so, y'know, not really up to bar, hehehe..."

Weak. So weak. Dying might just be worth it.

[inruins]

Toriel laughs easily at that, weak or not she clearly enjoys it. She reaches out to straighten up his hoodie, Toriel's bad habit of being friendly with the skeleton still around. "I hope the bar proves a worthy replacement for the time being."

He reeks of ketchup, sign enough he's been here awhile. She can smell it more clearly now that she's settled next to him like this. "I'm sure I can always pick something up from the mess hall later. Would you like me to grab you fries when I do?"

[skelepun]

Her hands on his hoodie are enough to make Sans shuffle nervously on the rickety bar stool, chuckling to himself at nothing at all. He's far too drunk for this.

"Don't go momming me, Tori." He snorted, face down on the bar -- aside from the small sliver of eye socket still visible, peaking up at her. "That'll get weird fast."

A beat.

"... But uh, yeah, that sounds awesome."

[inruins]

"Oh hush." She answers back, content to straighten his hoodie out. "I'm making sure you don't vanish into a pit of soft fabric and ketchup." Her tone is light, mostly amused at the shuffling on his part. When satisfied he won't turn into a pile of condiments wrapped in a hoodie she settles her hands on the bar.

"One order of fries then. I'm sure you'll need them." Toriel is only distracted by the bartender returning with her drink. She smiles back at them, "Thank you."

She takes a slow sip, wrinkling her nose a little.

[skelepun]

"I basically always need fries." Sans states, matter-of-factly, still sprawled out over the bar. He's doing a piss poor job of keeping himself respectable, especially in the presence of a queen, but then again... it's Tori. At the end of the day, it's still just her.

"Been a while?" He teases, grinning up at her wrinkled nose with one hand cupping his jaw curiously.

[inruins]

Even with the fussing, Toriel doesn't seem bothered by Sans flopping around like a drunken fish. It makes her smile.

"It has been a decade or more." Her ears pin more tightly against her head when she takes another drink. This will take a bit of time for her to relax into it again. "Or humans mix this drink differently than I do. Maybe the fact it doesn't have magic in it?"

[skelepun]

"Probably." Sans nods, fiddling with the half empty ketchup bottle in front of him before taking another swig. "Y'know, that's one of the things I miss most about back home. Magic food."

He sighs, wistful, thinking back to the greasy, heavenly smell of Grillby's during the lunch rush.

"Human food's decent, don't get me wrong, but I never learned how to use fire magic. Let alone for cooking."

[inruins]

She makes a soft agreeable noise at that, magic food is certainly something she misses herself. Her own stay hasn't been particularly long, but pangs for the familiarity of home slide in at the oddest times.

"I usually cook with my fire magic. So I can always try to make something for you?" She took another sip, slowly starting to get used to the bitter taste. "I don't use magic during my shifts in the kitchen, but I can always come in to make you something with magic."

[skelepun]

"A home cooked meal, huh?" The idea is downright tantalizing, and Sans seems to float away for a moment at the thought. "Not gonna lie, T, that would be pretty amazing."

He stops, fiddling with the almost empty bottle before chuckling softly.

"Been a while since we traded recipes, huh?"

[inruins]

"Consider it done, then. When I can, I'll see about making you something." Her mind is already drifting on what she can do. Any excuse to cook is an excuse to relax as far as Toriel is concerned. A way to empty her mind of anything but ingredients, instructions and the results she wanted.

"It has, hasn't it?" She muses in turn, running her fingers along the glass thoughtfully. Her claws click against the glassware. The bar isn't quite by any standards given how close it is to the mess hall, but it feels more secluded. It feels like the pair are in their own bubble of idle conversation and drinks. "We'll need to make up for lost time then and think of some to trade."

[skelepun]

"I'm warnin' ya, my cooking skills are about on par with my bro." Sans chuckles, rubbing the back of his skulls. He's just drunk enough to feel embarrassed, not to mention let it show. "Only he's got n-oodles of style, and all I can do is fumble my way through a recipe."

He takes another drink, the momentum nearly knocking him back off the stool.

"If cooking really is a science, then I'm way more out of practice than I thought."

[inruins]

"No one starts out perfectly, Sans. It's a process." She shifts in her stool, likely enough to cause her knee to grow increasingly closer to his own. The close proximity doesn't bother the boss monster.

She laughs at the joke, trying to hide it behind her hand and not getting very far with it. Sans nearly falling out the stool startles her a little before the skeleton catches himself. She squints at him briefly before rolling forward with the topic.

"It's a different kind of science, the rules being taste opposed to 'will this explode'."

[skelepun]

It's odd, to hear her laugh at a joke he thought solely for himself. There it was again, that disparity of experience. Did the Sans she know tell her about his history? Heck, tell her about his lab?

Hard to imagine any version of himself that would be so careless, but then again. This was Toriel. She had a certain way of drawing things out of him, no matter how hard he resisted.

"Heh, well, give me a recipe, and I'll give it a go. Measuring is something I'm passable at. I don't have an artist's eye like Pap, though."

[inruins]

The most Toriel has is vague science jokes on Sans part and apparent interest in subjects she really has no grasp on. She tries to understand at least.

"Hm. I'll have to find something you would enjoy then." She taps her fingers along the glass, the sound relaxing to the boss monster, as is the chill of the glass against the pad of her paws. She isn't remotely buzzed yet. "You'll get more 'artsy' with time. Cooking always starts rather... unattractive. My first few pies were disasters."

[skelepun]

"You're lying." Sans slurs, leaning down further against the bar until his skull tapped against the cool wood. It feels nice. "I bet they came out perfect. Everything you do is perfect. Perfect mom, perfect pie-person, perfect laugh. It's gotta be exhausting, T."

Sans was officially to drunk to remember his embarrassment.

[inruins]

The commentary makes the boss monster pause before snorting faintly back, "Oh hush." She reaches out to rest her hand gently against the back of his skull.

"I'd think it would be more exhausting being as funny as you are." Toriel lets her finger drift along the back of San's skull, towards the base of his skull and brushing against a vertebra. "I think you've had a little too much to drink."

[skelepun]

Well heck if that doesn't send a shock right down his spine and tingling along each of his ribs. Sans is pretty sure Toriel could sell her touch as a posture cure-all, because his certainly improved in the space of a half second after she touched him.

"Guilty." He shrugs, now sitting ramrod straight and blushing furiously all over again. "But hey, at least I'm not an alcoholic. They're always needing a drink, but I've already got one, see?"

With a little wave of his glass, Sans' grins triumphantly.

[inruins]

She only withdraws her hand to pick up her drink, hiding a smile behind her glass. Blue is a good color on him, she has to admit as much to herself.

"After this, we'll get you some water." She states simply back, not leaving much room to argue the point. "I'd rather you not over do it."