[Open] working your fingers to the bones, cause nobody loves you when you're gone

[coolskeletonnyehntyfive]

Who: Papyrus, Sans, and YOU!
When: March 12th and onwards
Where: Medbay
What: Papyrus had a really bad idea that nearly got himself and Sans killed. Sans put out a call for help. This log is for the general followup/aftermath.
Warnings: Broken bones and hearts, cracked skulls, life draining, will add more if necessary.

((OOC Note: The translator event will affect the skeletons, so anyone tagging in on the 13th will be in for a lively game of charades!))

Comments

[bloodbinds]

He doesn't answer her question and she catches it, wary of the way people interact with her. She needs to ensure that no one suspects what she is, and dancing to LaCroix's tune with a blade above her head at all times has given her a painful idea of what it means to be conscious of how someone acts, what they say.

But Sans doesn't come off like others in the Masquerade. He seems...normal in speech, like someone straight out of L.A. It's almost comforting. "Seems like he needs it," she agrees, looking over at Papyrus. It's so strange to look at them, to see skeletons talking, engaging in conversation.

To his question, she shakes her head. "No, I haven't met him before. I work here in the medbay. I was...concerned. What happened earlier caused a big stir." She shrugs. "And I'm one of the only ones who work this late, so I figured I'd look in and see how you two were."

[skelepun]

"Oh." Sans bursts, feeling a little silly for questioning her in the first place. The unintended loudness of his answer doubles down on that silly feeling, and Sans can't quite help the flush on his face as he shrugs. So much for playing it cool. The past few hours had taken more of a toll on his calm than Sans realized.

"Heh, yeah, I guess we know how to crash a party. Or just, y'know. Crash in general." Sans lowers his hand from the back of his neck, letting it fall over his brother's. "Thanks for looking in on him. I get it's your job, but, y'know."