[But the guy has a point. There's something about being vague and obfuscating that gets lost when it's a screen you're dancing around, and reality is just an unmade bed in an empty room.
Mettaton was being more selfless than Sans had ever seen him -- thanks to the handiwork of a certain determined child -- and even if Sans didn't agree with its necessity, he couldn't say it didn't deserve something in return.]
do you know napstablook? [Of course he did, and Sans doesn't wait for an answer.] you guys are way more alike than i bet most people give you credit for. you reject yourselves before anybody else gets a chance to.
[Of course, deciding to get to a point didn't mean he wouldn't take his sweet time getting there. Maybe he'd get lucky. Maybe Mettaton would disconnect before he arrived.]
[It's like being electrocuted. Seeing that name again... It's not to say he hasn't thought about them; he always thinks about them; but someone else saying their name almost makes it like... an imaginary friend turning real.
It makes it real.
If he could read minds, he'd laugh at how predictable he was. Instead:]
[With the click of disconnection, Sans can't help feeling like he'd made a mistake. He's capable of those. Hell, that's pretty much all he's capable of.
Alone, without Mettaton to pick at and mull over, all that's left is the reality of what he was trying to tell him. This human. One that had killed before. One that had a few more pieces of the jigsaw puzzle he would need to snuff out all of them, should he or anyone else want to.
... Maybe he should've tried a little harder to keep him on the line.]
Ah, hell.
[Sans murmurs, to no one, rubbing the space between his eye sockets. He should make this right somehow. That is, if he could ever manage to work up the energy.
These days (who's he kidding, all days), that's a pretty big 'if'.]
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futurology | IC Inbox
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[But the guy has a point. There's something about being vague and obfuscating that gets lost when it's a screen you're dancing around, and reality is just an unmade bed in an empty room.
Mettaton was being more selfless than Sans had ever seen him -- thanks to the handiwork of a certain determined child -- and even if Sans didn't agree with its necessity, he couldn't say it didn't deserve something in return.]
do you know napstablook? [Of course he did, and Sans doesn't wait for an answer.] you guys are way more alike than i bet most people give you credit for. you reject yourselves before anybody else gets a chance to.
[Of course, deciding to get to a point didn't mean he wouldn't take his sweet time getting there. Maybe he'd get lucky. Maybe Mettaton would disconnect before he arrived.]
no subject
It makes it real.
If he could read minds, he'd laugh at how predictable he was. Instead:]
Goodnight, Sans.
[He's hanging up.]
no subject
Alone, without Mettaton to pick at and mull over, all that's left is the reality of what he was trying to tell him. This human. One that had killed before. One that had a few more pieces of the jigsaw puzzle he would need to snuff out all of them, should he or anyone else want to.
... Maybe he should've tried a little harder to keep him on the line.]
Ah, hell.
[Sans murmurs, to no one, rubbing the space between his eye sockets. He should make this right somehow. That is, if he could ever manage to work up the energy.
These days (who's he kidding, all days), that's a pretty big 'if'.]