[J's return swept through the ship in whispers and hushed conversations, set alongside many similar conversations that occurred since her death. Paired against names like Rinzler and words like recoding, she became a figure in a debate. A martyr or a misdirection, depending on who you talked to.
For Sans, she was simply missing. A hole in his life that he would need to wait before it could fill in once more; a feeling he knows all too well. And when mentions of her return reach Sans, he doesn't break stride right then and there and go running. Her time is about to be very in demand, of that Sans is sure, and fighting for a piece of it goes against his instinct.
Instead, Sans lets the flow of the day carry him through like a river. He works, he gets some dinner, he accustoms himself to the feeling of emptiness slowly wearing in again. Maybe the choice to wait was as much for his own benefit as it was for hers.
With a breath, he scrapes the remains of his tray out into the trash, turns, and--
J's room is dark, but Sans can still make out the lines and shapes around him. There in bed, right where she should be, was J. And with that, Sans finally lets go of the breath he's been holding in for weeks.]
Two weeks wasn't enough of a nap for ya? Heh, and you call me lazy.
[It's a few hours before J stirs again, and Sans luckily had the foresight to bring along a crossword puzzle. The page is illuminated by his left eye, dim blue casting interesting shadows around the room. When the mattress stirs, Sans looks up, deep bags under his eye sockets receding slightly.
He sets the crossword down, eye dimming back to a friendly and familiar white light.]
no subject
For Sans, she was simply missing. A hole in his life that he would need to wait before it could fill in once more; a feeling he knows all too well. And when mentions of her return reach Sans, he doesn't break stride right then and there and go running. Her time is about to be very in demand, of that Sans is sure, and fighting for a piece of it goes against his instinct.
Instead, Sans lets the flow of the day carry him through like a river. He works, he gets some dinner, he accustoms himself to the feeling of emptiness slowly wearing in again. Maybe the choice to wait was as much for his own benefit as it was for hers.
With a breath, he scrapes the remains of his tray out into the trash, turns, and--
J's room is dark, but Sans can still make out the lines and shapes around him. There in bed, right where she should be, was J. And with that, Sans finally lets go of the breath he's been holding in for weeks.]
Two weeks wasn't enough of a nap for ya? Heh, and you call me lazy.
[It's a few hours before J stirs again, and Sans luckily had the foresight to bring along a crossword puzzle. The page is illuminated by his left eye, dim blue casting interesting shadows around the room. When the mattress stirs, Sans looks up, deep bags under his eye sockets receding slightly.
He sets the crossword down, eye dimming back to a friendly and familiar white light.]
Hey, sweetheart.