what did the skeleton say to the other skeleton

[skelepun]

Who: Sans & YOU
When: From the 16th on.
Where: All around the ship.
What: Catch-all log for May!! Some post-void shenanigans, some general around the ship shenanigans, fun for everybody!
Warnings: Will add if any come up! Probably some talk of mass murder, though.





( All prompts below! Please either PM me or PP me on plurk (safelybeds) if you'd like to hash out a custom starter!)

OTA (MEDBAY)
Sans tries to sneak out of the medbay after Magic Overload.

OTA (CRYOBAY)
Who wants to tell bad jokes and hang out around a bunch of kinda dead people?

OTA (TRAINING ROOM)
Magic burnout sucks. Let's talk about powers and why they're the worst.

OTA (CLASSROOMS)
Who wants to learn chemistry from the world's most tired man?

Comments

OTA - ᴍᴇᴅʙᴀʏ (ᴍᴀʏ 16ᴛʜ-17ᴛʜ)

[skelepun]

First, there was nothing.

Then, there was a headache.

Sans groans, shuddering at the scraping sensation as he opens his eye sockets. Every joint feels coarse and uncomfortable, as if he was split apart into two-hundred-and-six separate pieces and then reassembled. Poorly.

With a grunt, he slides up a little in his... bed? Normally, he'd be thrilled to find himself in any bed, even one he doesn't recognize, but this one only fills him with vague unease. Possibly because he does recognize it. White sheets, a metal bed frame, the smell of ammonia in the air.

He winces. The medbay. Great.

Teleporting doesn't even cross his mind. Whatever happened to him, he used a lot of magic -- way too much. The uncomfortable question of why is one for another day, when he's by himself and not in throes of what's shaping up to be an epic migraine.

Guess it'll need to be the old fashioned way. Sans slides up further, swinging his legs stiffly over the edge of the bed. It's a bit of a hop down to the floor, and the ache in his joints certainly isn't helping speed things up, but soon enough he's across the room, at the door, and--

Someone's standing there. Sans has no idea if they're just arriving or if they've been there long enough to know he should be in bed, but no time like the present for a gamble.

"Oh, uh. Hey. I was just--"

He looks down, realizing for the first time that somebody put him in a hospital gown. Welp.

16th!

[coolskeletonnyehntyfive]

"'Hey' yourself, brother!" Of course Papyrus catches him, and judging by the cranky look on his face, Sans has been out long enough to miss storytime. His own magic levels are low, but most of his physical injuries were superficial, and easily healed away by competent hands. The only evidence left is a shallow groove in his ulna that's hardly a wound at all anymore.

But still, he can't be too upset. Sans being awake means he can stop chasing down medbay personnel and pestering them for updates on his brother's condition. And it's a chance for him to finally ask what the heck was going on in his... world.

"Are you back for good now? Do you still need me to give you more memories??"

Because he wrote down a lot of his favorite ones, just in case.

16th

[neveroutwrenched]

"Just taking a nap, right?"

Just arriving. Ratchet stands with his arms crossed, looking out of place. The medbay was a place you visited when someone was hurt, or dying or...maybe coming back to life. It was hard to put a smile on your face in the medbay at the best of times, and Ratchet couldn't even manage to keep any semblance of placidity on his. He didn't know how he felt. Confused? Pissed off? Betrayed? Relieved?

16th

[hostessing]

She's still not entirely sure why her initial job assignment had been here of all places. She has no medical training from her own era much less one with very different equipment. The only reason she can think of is they were in desperate need of organization which is a skill she can offer.

What she doesn't expect is a patient made entirely of bones to be there when she shows up for her scheduled shift. She quietly checks the records to see when the... man? arrived. Checked in and gowned already and while she has no idea how long he should stay here, she has a good inkling that leaving any time soon is likely low on the doctor's desires for this patient. Even if she's unsure how one would treat a skeleton.

When he stirs, she's busy organizing a shelf of medicine that someone let get in disarray. The sound of bones meeting the floor are hard to miss and she doesn't even turn to face him when she says, "You should stay in bed." It's not a question, it's a statement of fact.

16th

[forfeits]

Ed does not often wander in the Med Bay itself, and keeps himself tucked away in the labs with his research. He's been doing a little more work on his own automail -- trying to figure out just how Winry put it together, how it might be improved or serviced here on the ship without his mechanic.

Today, though, he's been a little distracted. What with the new planet and the excitement around going home, he can't keep his mind on work. Which is why he's up to stretch his (perilously short) legs. He very nearly doesn't see Sans, having been scribbling something in his small, leather journal without looking up.

"Oh, whoa, hey. Sorry."

Edward has helped a few people sneak out when they shouldn't have, so he very nearly doesn't think twice about the hospital gown. "Are you supposed to be up and moving? Pretty sure they'll get pretty mad that you'r up and moving around."

IM SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG.....

[forwardmomentum]

[ there's something fundamentally awkward about going to see someone who's just killed you. miles has met plenty of people who've tried to kill him, sure, but for the most part they weren't friends to begin with, and there is a distinction to be made between tried and succeeded.

dying is something miles has more experience in than most of the crew, he'd wager, but caducus primary had been different. he'd been collateral damage. but sans had killed him, and the guy doesn't even remember. on account of miles resetting and all. he's still not sure he's reconciled...any of it.

which is probably why he's here. or something. he rounds the corner into the room just as sans looks like he's trying to leave, and miles comes up short, holding up his hands. ]

You know, if you're going to try to discharge yourself against medical advice, you'll want to make a quicker escape. Speaking from experience.

OTA - ᴄʀʏᴏʙᴀʏ (ᴍᴀʏ 19ᴛʜ)

[skelepun]

The first sign of something being wrong comes when she doesn't visit him in the medbay. Toriel is many things, and there for him when he needs her nears the top of that list -- even if he sometimes wishes it wouldn't. Her absence was noted, but Sans was able to make up an excuse at least. She's a busy lady. Maybe she just didn't get around to it.

Her not answering his texts, though? That was unheard of.

When Frisk tells him what happened -- her collapse, her tenuous condition, being monitored in the cryobay -- it's with a sinking pit in his metaphorical gut. He's not surprised. Hell, part of him is even relieved. But still, worry is always on his mind.

He didn't have the heart to explain his concerns to Frisk -- what it means when a monster collapses. Falling down, that's what his culture calls it. Something that should never happen to boss monsters, but with Asriel's horns budding in, maybe--

No. That's dumb. Toriel will out live 'em all, even with her son by her side. That old lady was tough as nails. Moping on her behalf wasn't an option.

So Sans abides by a request she made in a very dark room after a very awkward moment -- just be Sans. And being Sans means coming prepared.

"Hey, T, y'know what I'm gonna call you?" He starts, leaned up against her cryotube with a joke book set off to one side and a bag of chips in hand, bag crinkling noisily as he grabs a handful. "A momsicle. Geddit?"

[gainedlove]

Sans' joke gets a chuckle, but not from Toriel this time. Frisk pads over a little hesitantly, worn out after the excitement of the past couple weeks. Rinzler, then Kaworu, then Ginko, then Rinzler again...and then Sans... They're run more than a little ragged by this point. And Toriel's collapse is just another thing pressing on their mind.

But they do their best to keep up their happy image, even if it's strained. "Ehe! Don't use up all the good stuff when she can't hear it, Sans."

[redshitlord]

In between bouncing back and forth between worlds, mostly taking people to his own and marveling at Rey and Leia and Luke and everyone else's, he's lost track of Riptide somewhere. Which... doesn't sit very well with him. He'd wanted the big bot to see his world more than anyone else, honestly.

So before he heads off to see someone else's place, or drag them to his, it's time to look for said Autobot. In places he hasn't yet. Which generally means looking in places he hasn't ever been visiting before.

Like this creepy place. And Sideswipe is about ready to bolt out when he hears the familiar voice.

"That was awful," he says, despite the smirk on his face as he pads around a corner. As much as a giant robot can. "Hey."

[quixotically]

Elle doesn't need to be here. There isn't anyone in particular she's here to visit, and she hasn't... The time she thought she -- died -- in the Alter-Ingress, she woke up on the launch pad. But with everything that's going on, all the chaos, she...

... she wants to see how many people are being affected. She wants to keep track. She isn't a scientist, she can't help figure out what's going on, how to fix it, how to make sure everyone gets back. She feels -- She feels helpless. This... This, at least, she can do. She doesn't know if it'd be worth anything. But she... At least, maybe, she can see how many people might... need her help, once it's all done. This is... This has to be rough on everyone. And she worries that people will try to deal with it on their own, instead of reaching out, if they have people to reach out to.

She doesn't mean to overhear. To... eavesdrop. But she recognizes the voice, turns to see where he is, and... he... He's talking to someone in a cryotube. Her heart aches. She considers... leaving him be, but she -- She was just worrying about people trying to shoulder things by themselves. She should at least... offer.

She bites her lower lip, before offering a quiet, tentative, "I thought you were gonna say, 'really cool.'" It's... really lame. But she isn't good at this, and it's the best she can do on the spot. If he wants her to go away, she will. But... She wants to try.

OTA - ᴛʀᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ʀᴏᴏᴍ (ᴍᴀʏ 21sᴛ)

[skelepun]

C'mon. Work.

When one of your hobbies involves undisturbed naps, there's an advantage to keeping track of when places tend to be empty. For the training room, that time was just about now -- sometime after 1AM. Most of the ship was asleep and those poor suckers unfortunate enough to get a graveyard shift had better things to do than practice their high kicks.

Sans had the place to himself, at least for now.

"C'mon." He mutters again, snapping his fingers to a shower of blue sparks -- weak, formless magic. The sort of stuff baby bones fire off before they're old enough for real magic. It's embarrassing, and more than that it makes no sense. Magic always came easily to him. A little too easily, sometimes.

Sure, after expending a lot of energy it might be harder to summon for a while, but days?

He snaps again, successfully summoning a single bone. A clavicle, barely much to look at. Frustrated, Sans throws the bone over his shoulder carelessly.

The sound of it hitting someone isn't what he expects to hear. Turning, brow furrowed, he looks equal parts caught and apologetic. The little thing would barely feel like much of anything, but well. Sans was counting on being alone.

"Crap, did I getcha?"

[mttbrandlegs]

Sans seemed to be forgetting the always-awake robot with nothing to do during the night. By this point, Mettaton has gotten over his...little mushi illness, and is back to roaming the halls at night and familiarizing himself with the ship layout.

It's both fortunate and unfortunate that the robot happened upon Sans when he did. Fortunate because he was glad to see the smaller skeleton was up and about, and they needed to talk anyway. But also unfortunate because there went the bone. It bounced off of Mettaton's shoulder and he glanced down at it with deep disdain. Like wow. Thanks a bunch.

"Mm, it's fine darling," he said eventually, turning to look up at Sans with a casual smile. "It would take more than that to hurt me! Of course, that isn't an open invitation!"

Maybe later he'd humor the thought. Sans' magic was an impressive sight.

"How have you been doing?"

[isdronning]

Apparently, Sans hasn't taken into account any night owls on the ship. Or the people who can't sleep, so they wander around to either distract themselves or make themselves tired.

Elsa is more the latter, though she's had an idea similar to Sans'. If it's late and most people are asleep, that makes for a good time to practice with your magic uninterrupted, right? Since she's been taking time to practice her own in an effort to increase the amount of control she has over them, she's been doing it in places where she's unlikely to be watched or found. Doing it at night has been particularly useful, since she still has no idea how to get rid of all the ice and snow once she's finished and thus has to leave it to melt. But that's a whole other thing.

When she enters the training room some time after one in the morning, it comes as a surprise to see the skeleton already there. She hasn't seen him in quite a while, but she remembers him from her first day on the ship, which is enough to prevent her from sneaking back out of the room. Rather, Elsa steps further in, and she's about to say something when the bone is tossed back. It hits her in the leg, not hurting at all, and her eyes drop down to the floor to rest on it.

"You did, but it's all right." Lifting her head, she gives Sans a reassuring smile. Waving it off with one hand, she watches him quietly for a moment before deciding to ask the question on her mind. "It's awfully late to be training. Were you having a difficult time sleeping, as well?"

[meyneth]

Fiora doesn't normally stay up this late. Despite everything that's happened, she's still been on the same sleep and wake schedule she had back in Colony 9. Getting up early to start the day's errands, checking on her brother before he woke up, being first in line at the market. While the ether lamps in their house were enough to sit up and read if she wanted, she was never big into books, and never much of a night owl anyway.

The last few weeks have been hard, though. Other than Doctor Yewll's condemnation the night it happened, no one has said anything to Fiora about what she did, and instead of feeling grateful, it's weighing heavily on her mind. Rinzler walking away instead of killing her was shocking. The fallout directed at Peter and Alan was shocking. The excuses being made by everyone was shocking. Fiora doesn't understand any of it - not Alan, not Peter, not Rinzler, not the people rushing to defend Rinzler, not the people rushing to criticize the plan. She could hardly even follow some of the conversations that followed - AI sentience? None of it made any sense to her.

This place sucks. Going home for a few precious days has only made her feel more angry and apathetic about everything and everyone, while underscoring her lack of options. At least back home, she knew the Mechon. She knew what Zanza was trying to do, she knew how she could help, and she knew how she wanted to spend her last days before her body fell apart. But on the Moira, her expiration date has been scratched away, and she has no purpose.

It's not like her to be awake at this time of night, and it's not like her to want to expend her frustrations with violence. But here she is anyway, wandering into the training room, her eyes averted and brow slightly furrowed as her mind is deep in troubled thought. She doesn't see or hear Sans when she steps inside. It's the bone tossed her way, and her body's automatic response to it flying towards her, that suddenly snaps her back to the present.

Her metal hand zips up involuntarily to catch it out of the air. When it makes contact with her palm, there's a faint burning sensation, but then it's gone. Her eyes refocus and her expression softens into something more normal, more tired.

"Sans?" she says, before opening her fist to look at whatever that just was. The bone is already gone, the magic having dissipated. Fiora shakes out her hand, unsure of what she just touched, before looking back to the skeleton uneasily.

Maybe she should go. He was here first. "S-Sorry," she stammers. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything. I thought for sure this place would be empty."

[saveyourserpent]

Liquid never has anything better to do than practicing his high kicks. If there's one thing Liquid's a bit excessive on-- Well, no, Liquid's excessive on everything. But he's especially big on training. Working out. Keeping in shape. And he's had a hard time sleeping lately.

So, here he is, one AM, heading to the training room, just for something small. Maybe set up some kind of Double Dragon-esque scenario, punch everything for a while.

Try to ignore the constant feeling of wanting to stay home, stay in his past.

When he makes his way in, though, someone's already in there. And something comes right towards him. Bonk. Right off his abs. He peers down at it, then looks up.

"Didn't realize I'd be needing a shield. Sorry to interrupt the..." He trails off and looks at the thing that hit him again. "bone-tossing competition."

[warandpeace]

Miller softly "oofs" behind him. Then there was a clatter. By the time Sans turned, Mama has grabbed said newly formed bone and is attempting to trot away with it. Miller? Making no effort to stop her.

He grunts and hefts the laundry basket he's been lugging around (complete with a half folded sheet over it to discourage the brood inside from escaping) over to the console. If anything he was getting a hell of a workout.

"No problem," casually said. "Didn't hurt. So what are you going for in here?"

He checked into the training room whenever he was awake. He didn't mind people using it when he wasn't around- in fact, he felt people should try to improve themselves whenever the motivation struck. Though whenever he could be around, he was ready to turn things into more of a challenge. As far as he could get away with.

Looked like Sans was already having trouble, though.

[seeingscarlet]

[Sans isn't the only one who can't sleep. Wanda's powers don't tire her, not usually, but she would really rather practice when there aren't a lot of people around. Fewer distractions are generally a good thing.

She is so focused on telekinetically building a house of cards that she doesn't even see Sans, much less that bone. Wanda lets out a very unladylike squeak and the entire thing comes crashing down.]

I'm all right. Most of the crew is asleep, so I thought I was alone.

[Which begs the question of why Sans isn't sleeping in a real bed right now.]

late and didn't even bring starbucks

[keelahselai]

It's true that being hit by a stray collar bone is not how Tali expected to end her night. Her reflexes are shot by this time, and all she does is pretty much stare dumbly as it in the couple of seconds it takes to arc through the air...and smack her on the head. Probably cosmic retribution for having been rubbernecking the sparking skeleton in the first place.

She's crouching to pick the bone up as Sans turns around. "Good aim." Or so bad it's good. Either or.

And, holding it up in her hand, "Err... Do you need this back?"

[prayed]

But it did hit somebody.

The attack (if it could be called that) caught her off guard, leaving her equal parts embarrassed and frustrated, before the realization that it was accidental tips the scale and earns Sans a glare. It didn't hurt, but it's certainly the first time in awhile that she's taken any kind of blow.

Plus, she's sick of running into guys like this. The ones that littered the ship, made up of such a strong concentration of magic that it distorted her senses. The frustrating creatures that weren't creatures, not witches or monsters, but people who were still made up of emotions and life.

"What the Hell was that for!?" Kyoko exclaims, fists clenching at her sides as she hardens her glare. Her anger is petulant, rather than concerning. She struggles to grasp at some insult or complaint before finally settling, "And how many skeletons are on this ship!? Do all of you have to act so obnoxious!?"

Granted, she's only met two skeletons, but that's two too many. She thinks. Actually, she doesn't really care that much, but details.

[stompadour]

The little bone bounces off Jasper's sturdy midsection and clatters onto the ground. She looks like she didn't even feel it hit her -- except for the ominous scowl on her face and the impatient hand on her hip. She certainly doesn't care that it's the middle of the night; Jasper hasn't ever made a habit of sleeping, and has no intention of starting now just because she's on a ship with a bunch of people who do.

Still frowning, she stoops -- a fairly long way down -- to pick up the bone.

"What is this?"

May 20th

[inruins]

Frustration lay low and sharp in her belly as she worked over the dough, trying to find the familiar rhythm again and only finding further frustration. Toriel felt like she couldn't do anything right in the moment.

"Damn it." Fell from her lips as she found herself at another dead end. Usually she could braid the dough so easily into a pie crust, but today... everything she touched was turning into a mess. Every attempt was coming out more and more mangled.

She dusted her hands off on the front of her apron, stepping back from her set up with an agitated frown. The counter was laid neatly with baking supplies, rolling pin, butter, a pie pan set out alongside what fruit she deemed useful in the flurried moment she came into the emptied kitchen. All she wanted was a mindless escape from the reality of the time she missed, instead she was just destroying dough from manhandling it.

She was focused enough on the pie she was oblivious to anyone entering the kitchen, finding herself drawn back to trying to get what she wanted out of the baked good to be.

[skelepun]

Just like the days prior, Sans plucked a joke book from his shelf, flipped to one of the many dogeared pages, and read through the fresh section with an absent smile on his face. Since his ordeal through the Ingress, all his transportation was of the manual variety -- but that gave him plenty of time to freshen up on some new material before he got to Toriel's cryotube.

Enough time hadn't passed for Sans to really call it a routine. A habit, maybe. Something he marks the time with, until he doesn't need to anymore. Toriel will be awake and memories of his morning trips to the cryobay will be a distant memory.

Unfortunately, that sensation comes faster than Sans realizes.

"Huh?" Her tube, empty. It doesn't take a genius to guess what happened, and Sans feels a giddy flutter of relief as he realizes it. She's awake! She's awake and she's... somewhere? Looking over his shoulder, Sans's mind skips a few steps ahead of him. Where would he go after a week in a frozen tube?

Well, the kitchens of course. Duh.

It takes Sans a while to get there -- how the hell do people walk everywhere all the time? -- and he gets lost more than once. By the time he finally gets there, he's half convinced she'll have moved on by now. That is, if she even stopped there in the first place.

He's never been happier to be wrong.

"Tori!" He beams from the doorway, voice bursting with fresh energy he hasn't had in days. "Hey! I was lookin' everywhere for ya, I can't believe you're awake."

Distance now closed between them, he wraps her in a tight hug and finishes his thought.

"You bit my style for a whole week, yeesh."

OTA - ᴄʟᴀssʀᴏᴏᴍs (ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴍᴀʏ)

[skelepun]

When it came to dispensing advice, Sans took a sort of lackadaisical pleasure in it. Nothing quite so rewarding as taking a seat on the sidelines and gently suggesting the real hero went one way or the other.

The greatest trick a slacker ever pulled was convincing someone else he's carefree out of some higher enlightenment, not just because they'd rather eat pizza cold than go through the trouble of microwaving it.

But teaching? That's a whole different beast.

For one, you have to be there at 9AM. Which means waking up at 8:55AM. And two, this isn't like any of the jobs he's held in the past. As a sentry, Sans may have held down something akin to six jobs at once, but his job description wasn't exactly demanding. Sit at a station, watch for humans that never came, maybe do a crossword puzzle, nap. All things he probably would've done anyway.

Garbage detail was much the same. A few quick mathematical equations and the garbage was either floating in space somewhere or chilling in the vents near the personnel offices. Easy.

Here though, people were expecting to learn something. About chemistry, no less. Not his field, per se, but every scientist has to know at least a little bit. That's the trouble with chemistry -- it makes up everything!

Heh, he'll have to remember that one.

Seated at the top of the class, Sans looks every inch as tired as he is. It's 9:10, and he came bumbling in late with slippers dragging and his pajamas still on. Before addressing anyone seated in the room, Sans thunks his skull down on the desk at the front of the room and grunts in vague greeting.

"You guys are here to learn chem, right?" He asks, skull still face down on the desk.

May... uh, 16th? /wiggly hand gesture

[braceforimpact]

You know, Sans... most people, when faced with needing to be somewhere at 9 am... give themselves more than five minutes to wake up, get ready, and travel to their destination.

Of course, it appears that Sans has actually skipped the first two parts of that process, so...

Oh, also he's late. To his own class.

For shame.

It's probably also embarrassing to have Kaworu Nagisa poke his head in the door, studying Sans for a moment before Sans asks one, likely ill-fated question.

"Oh no, I was just walking by. I saw you lying there and thought I'd make sure you were all right."

Why would he want to learn chemistry? Science is the power of the mind... not something he cares about at all.

ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ (ᴄᴀssᴀɴᴅʀᴀ) - ᴍᴀʏ 23ʀᴅ

[skelepun]

Avoiding his brother wasn't something Sans indulged in on a typical day. He loved the guy, adored him, but since everything spilled out between them like overcooked pasta things have been...

Well, the guilt's a little hard to take.

Smoking isn't a thing that skeletons really do per se, but it's a decent way to pass the time when you're bored and alone and want to blow smoke rings out through your face holes. So when Sans finds a half empty pack in the trash (someone's trying to better themselves...), he makes his way to one of the more secluded corners of the ship to play at having lungs for a little while.

Unfortunately, the secluded corner he had in mind is looking a lot less secluded today.

"Oh." He says, skull cocked thoughtfully to the side. Cassandra, right? "Hey there."

[deal]

She visibly pales as she takes notice of the skeleton, all her thoughts that her first encounter with him not being real vacating immediately. Her eyes widen as he looks him over, nodding slowly as she tries to decide if she wants to abandon her dark corner and run or stay and talk. It doesn't take her long to decide that maybe he's some kind of conscience she never had back home, or some kind of reaper that's meant to bother her into confessing all of her sins since she's technically supposed to be dead.

In any case, she's not particularly pleased to see him. If anything, she looks a mix of awkwardly resigned and afraid. "You're still here." She points it out almost accusatory, as her arms fold over her chest.

"Why?"

(ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ) ʟᴀʀᴀ - ᴍᴀʏ 24ᴛʜ

[skelepun]

As his MID ticked over to 00:00:00, it marked the end of a week since his brother dragged him back from his own personal hell. Before that, it was a week of wandering what was left of his home, supplanted by endless blackness and a weighty sense of hopelessness.

So that's been his month, just about.

People have come and gone. Friends, either intentionally or unintentionally reminding him of the life he had here. It wasn't perfect, but it was stable enough and it was his and Sans stopped asking for much more than that a long time ago.

There was just one face he hadn't seen yet. He didn't like to go more than a day without doing just that. Two weeks was inexcusable. With some quick mental math, his own room melted away, and the bed he sat on was no longer his.

"Hey, sweetheart." He whispered, careful not to wake her roommates. Most people didn't like to see a skeleton show up uninvited to someone's bedside. Something about a specter of death. Couldn't really blame them. Though he didn't think the grim reaper wore a hoodie.

Well, not a blue one, anyway.

When Lara didn't stir, he didn't bother shaking her awake. Sleep was always hard for her, since the moment he first met her and they'd struck a deal -- I'll sleep if you sleep. He still isn't sure she kept up her end of that bargain. He never thought to ask.

"Get your rest, it's good for you." He mumbled, voice still pitched low. "I gotta say though, I never thought I'd be the one with sleeping troubles and you'd be out like a light."

He chuckled, smoothing the covers over her. In the dark of the room, he could almost pretend he was alone.



"I know it's been tough for you. Since Himiko." It's odd, how the words seem to spill now. He's never been exactly forthright, not even with himself. Still. Something about it felt... right, somehow. "I know I haven't been around for you as much as I should've been. Kinda got smacked in the face recently with where letting things slide gets me. Don't wanna keep doing that, if I can help it."

And empty promise, sure, but the sentiment was genuine.

"I know you're sleeping so I'll keep it short. Just wanted to see your face. Good to see you're still in one piece, L. N' y'know... let you know you can talk to me. Heh, I might get it more than I've been letting on."

For the next fifteen minutes or so, Sans keeps quiet, hand resting loosely over her back through the covers. She looks at peace now, at least, face unmarred by bad dreams. It does his soul good, to see that, even if intellectually he knows it's a rare reprieve.

"I'm gonna try to tell you all of this when you're awake too, kiddo. I know. Trying. Not really my thing, but what can I say?" He leaned down, giving her a soft bonk on the forehead with his own skull. The closest thing to a kiss a skeleton can give. "I really don't like promises, but I guess I'm gonna make an exception for ya, sweetheart."

He gets up, surveying the room once more, before taking a breath and vanishing.

He'll come back tomorrow.

After all, he promised.