[Sans's expression might cloud, but Papyrus's brightens a little. It's reassuring to hear that his brother had something similar, and he has to snort a laugh at the pun.]
I'm amazed we didn't melt, being on a tropical beach! [Well. That's a little exaggerated. It's subtropical. And if they've been "Reclaimers," going on reclaiming missions and whatever, they must have had time to get used to it. Even if their amnesiac base understandings of the world didn't get the memo.]
I should probably stop wearing this, though. [He shrugs to indicate his hoodie, which he absolutely will not stop wearing.] I've got some pretty weird outfits back at my cabana. [Which he does remember wearing on other missions, since it was funny.]
What? Really? And yet you never wear any of it... [Not to say Sans stinks and has an extremely monotonous wardrobe, but he is literally wearing the same hoodie now as in each of the photos of him.]
I can't decide if the farmer outfit or the camping outfit is my favorite. [The camping one is really only funny when Lucretia is around, but it was very good.] Then I've got a whole box of Sayori stuff. [Actually maybe that's the best? There are just so many options!]
Sayori... like Sayori, the Bowmaiden? Real merchandise?? [That's a little impressive. He's had those melty faced icecream pops, and probably has a copy of her poster back in his part of the cabana - that neither he nor Church sleep in. But that's nothing on, what, a hoodie with her logo on it?
Okay, he is maybe assuming things about Sans's usual clothing habits.]
Do you have any cool pics of these outfits? ["Cool pics" is maybe not a word applicable to Sans, either.]
Actually, yeah. [Sans has to open his bracer for it, but there is indeed a picture of Sans wearing a bootleg Sayori t-shirt. shorts, socks, hat, and slippers. It's bootlegs all the way down. The background shows a Lyrabar market side street.]
Oh my god. That's... that's so much. [He almost wants to say too much. It's not exactly what he'd call real merchandise as much as the exact opposite. And can you really call it bootleg merch if there aren't any boots involved??]
But no sunglasses... I bet you could make bow-shaped sunglasses. [Bootleggers of Faerun, look out, Papyrus is brainstorming. Plus leaning in to squint more closely at the image.] That place doesn't look like any of my pictures...
Yeah, that's Lyrabar. [Sans's memories of his time in the bureau are much more intact than anything before it.] That was our fourth mission. Still had both my hands. [Hand nostalgia?] If you can figure out bowglasses, I want a pair.
[Right. Speaking of hand nostalgia. Has Sans remembered enough to be tired of the moments when people notice and stare and then studiously look away from it? Because he's getting that moment in Papyrus flavor now, as he looks where Sans's hand isn't just a little too long.]
A pair of h-- of bowglasses, yeah. I'm sure I can make something like that!
[It's easy to imagine. Just shape the frames so they're like a bow... and the lenses with them... Maybe there's some technical limitations to glasses that he doesn't know about, but it's not like they need to be more than tinted glass, right?
Despite his latching onto the project idea, his gaze wanders toward the hand void again.]
[Yeah, Sans catches that.] I bet Sayori'd think it's cool, she liked all that bootleg stuff, too. [And Papyrus is still doing it. Sans's instinct, of course, is to try to smooth things over with a joke.] It's not a big deal. It's my right hand, not my write hand.
[For some reason, he already has a blueprint in his mind of how this should go. Sans made a joke, Papyrus can laugh or not, and then it's all fine. Is that a memory or just what he's hoping happens?]
[Whoops, busted. Papyrus stiffens a little, but relaxes again with the joke.]
Well, that's all-- I mean. [He catches himself from saying all right, mainly because it would be inaccurate and he can almost hear Sans correcting him on it. Takes a second to gauge the mood, before offering:] As... As long as you're left with what's important.
[Nyeh heh heh. It would be easy to leave it at that, with a couple laughs and dismissing the matter. They've been discovering little habitual patterns that they slide into easy as breathing, especially since Papyrus stopped being so carefully polite, and relaxed enough to insult back. It feels like it'd be easy enough... But nothing's happened to build any expectation that Sans would refuse to answer questions, keeping everything secret. With no sense that there's no point in asking, Papyrus speaks up again, haltingly.]
[Sans does remember. He also remembers how alarming it had been to hear Papyrus talk about being dead even though it had turned out not to be the case. Is it better or worse to explain? Well, he can put off figuring out what to do with the question directly for a little longer.]
You don't remember any of the bureau stuff, right? Like not the rules or what happened when we got hurt? [Got hurt is understating it a bit.]
None of it at all. [Papyrus rubs at the back of his neck, then shifts his arm to draw attention to his own bracer.] If I didn't have this... I almost wouldn't believe in it.
[He's not the only one in that, he's found. A couple other people with the bracers have no particular memories of a Bureau, and no particular inclination toward investigation or helping people. Just the goal to get themselves out, to safety... or just to comment with mockery on what the others do. It's enough to wonder if some of the bracers were maybe stolen, except his is so clearly custom-fitted to the unique challenges of bones.]
[It's reasonable to explain that. It might not work that way here, but after they get out, it would be good to know. There are other people Papyrus could hear this from, and maybe that would actually be worse? He still wants to squirm out of the question, but if it's something most people know about, then-- He trusts Papyrus. He can't remember any logical reason not to tell him. Why does he keep thinking about this stuff so much?] So, we had this three-strike system going. The doc on the base could fix up pretty much anything, even dying. But each time you die, you lose something. [Sans shrugs in the most casual possible way.] So, this ain't the worst thing to be left with.
[This time, the left pun doesn't get a laugh, mainly because Papyrus is too busy being flabbergasted. One could almost see various mathematical formulas floating in the air around his head as he opens and closes his jaw.]
You... died... but you're not dust?? [He'll get around to the emotional impact of, apparently his brother died at some point he can't remember, and where was he when that happened, and all of that, later. First he needs to grapple with Sans claiming to have defied a fundamental law of reality. Dead people - dead monsters - make dust. That other people make skeletons is a mystery he hasn't quite come to terms with yet.]
Not anymore. [He was dust at one point. Actually two points, but he doesn't remember the second one.] Actually, uh, Lucretia's the only one who can deal with that--situation, for us, so hey, more reason to drag her out of the volcano. [Sans is trying really hard to keep his tone as casual as possible here.]
Oh my god. [That much slips out in a tight and agitated voice, despite the tone Sans is setting. But Papyrus is at least quieter than usual, due partly to him burying his mouth in his hands as he processes all of this. There's a lot.]
That. Is. A very good reason, for us to risk thorns, and go in a dangerous volcano. [He nods slowly, head bobbing on his palms.] Okay. Yeah. Let's do that. Everybody living in friendship, and for a very long time.
[Only dying that one time (plus that one time he doesn't remember when all the magic in the world got wiped out) is a pretty good track record for someone as generally fragile as he is, in Sans's estimation. But Sans is sure Papyrus doesn't remember that particular fact about Sans, and Sans is not going to bring it up right now.]
Yeah, and I'm plannin' on taking a nap until someone figures out how to get her out of there, to be extra safe.
[He's sure talking about being lazy will help this situation. That thought doesn't even feel like a joke.]
Yeah, don't lose both your hands. [He says it too bluntly, but Papyrus is a little less tense at the joke, shifting to rest his chin in his hands instead. For all he's reflexively protested and chastised the laziness before, it is reassuring to hear that Sans is avoiding putting himself in danger.]
I wonder... do you think. I know we're different than dead bones. But, I figured out how to, um. Animate skeletons. For a little while. Back when I learning how my magic works. [Did Sans catch that during his times lurking around his brother? Just Papyrus, and the dog, and some material components, in a clearing in the woods, making a fish skeleton flop around for a bit.] Do you think, we could make a hand for you, like that...?
[He trails off with the question, second thoughts bubbling up ask he asks. Would the magic that made Sans un-dust allow him to get a prosthetic? Would making it out of real bones be too creepy? Would Sans even want a replacement hand..?]
[Sans feels a little bad at how Papyrus agrees with his laziness, considering he hasn't actually decided if he's going to stay away from the volcano or not. Well, he doesn't have to bring that up right now. As for a hand... Sans looks at his right arm again. Aside from making a lot of jokes about plastic skeleton hands, Sans is pretty sure too many things had been happening for him to seriously consider much of anything in regards to it, even if the details are still fuzzy.]
Hey, it's worth a shot, right? [Think of all the "give me a hand" jokes that could be made! Of course, the odds of a skeletal hand just sitting around waiting to be used are probably a little slim...] You gonna Frankenstein something together or am I gonna get a big bear claw or somethin'?
[If the aggressive pirates are as aggressive as rumor has it, they probably have a couple skeletons lying around. But maybe recycling from food animals would be easier... Wait, what? Papyrus double-takes at that comment.]
...Mmmmmaybe. Why a bear?
[This is because of some pun he's not managing to think of, right? Don't leave him hanging, explain the joke.]
[Even braced for something, this one still manages to catch him off-guard. Papyrus sputters and cackles with laughter.]
Oh my god! Now I have to try it. At least once. Nyeh heh heh... Bear-handed. [He wipes a tear from his eyesocket, which is there because he's laughing so hard, and not because this has been such an emotional rollercoaster of a conversation.]
Hey, there's an idea, gimme a whole set of arms. I can swap 'em out. [Sans latches onto the ridiculousness; he's sure he'd rather just talk about ridiculous things all the time. If it's something bad--well, he can ignore that, at least for right now.]
Different bones for different occasions! [In an incredible feat of brotherly synchronicity, Papyrus is right there in the ridiculousness.] A small hand for sewing... A big hand for arm-wrestling... Gold-plated bones for special occasions!
[Plating bones with gold is evidence of wealth and class, right? Since it's an expensive metal and all.]
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I'm amazed we didn't melt, being on a tropical beach! [Well. That's a little exaggerated. It's subtropical. And if they've been "Reclaimers," going on reclaiming missions and whatever, they must have had time to get used to it. Even if their amnesiac base understandings of the world didn't get the memo.]
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Just how weird are they?
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farmer sans... reminded of all the oira art
Okay, he is maybe assuming things about Sans's usual clothing habits.]
Do you have any cool pics of these outfits? ["Cool pics" is maybe not a word applicable to Sans, either.]
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But no sunglasses... I bet you could make bow-shaped sunglasses. [Bootleggers of Faerun, look out, Papyrus is brainstorming. Plus leaning in to squint more closely at the image.] That place doesn't look like any of my pictures...
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A pair of h-- of bowglasses, yeah. I'm sure I can make something like that!
[It's easy to imagine. Just shape the frames so they're like a bow... and the lenses with them... Maybe there's some technical limitations to glasses that he doesn't know about, but it's not like they need to be more than tinted glass, right?
Despite his latching onto the project idea, his gaze wanders toward the hand void again.]
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[For some reason, he already has a blueprint in his mind of how this should go. Sans made a joke, Papyrus can laugh or not, and then it's all fine. Is that a memory or just what he's hoping happens?]
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Well, that's all-- I mean. [He catches himself from saying all right, mainly because it would be inaccurate and he can almost hear Sans correcting him on it. Takes a second to gauge the mood, before offering:] As... As long as you're left with what's important.
[Nyeh heh heh. It would be easy to leave it at that, with a couple laughs and dismissing the matter. They've been discovering little habitual patterns that they slide into easy as breathing, especially since Papyrus stopped being so carefully polite, and relaxed enough to insult back. It feels like it'd be easy enough... But nothing's happened to build any expectation that Sans would refuse to answer questions, keeping everything secret. With no sense that there's no point in asking, Papyrus speaks up again, haltingly.]
...Do you... remember what happened?
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You don't remember any of the bureau stuff, right? Like not the rules or what happened when we got hurt? [Got hurt is understating it a bit.]
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[He's not the only one in that, he's found. A couple other people with the bracers have no particular memories of a Bureau, and no particular inclination toward investigation or helping people. Just the goal to get themselves out, to safety... or just to comment with mockery on what the others do. It's enough to wonder if some of the bracers were maybe stolen, except his is so clearly custom-fitted to the unique challenges of bones.]
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You... died... but you're not dust?? [He'll get around to the emotional impact of, apparently his brother died at some point he can't remember, and where was he when that happened, and all of that, later. First he needs to grapple with Sans claiming to have defied a fundamental law of reality. Dead people - dead monsters - make dust. That other people make skeletons is a mystery he hasn't quite come to terms with yet.]
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That. Is. A very good reason, for us to risk thorns, and go in a dangerous volcano. [He nods slowly, head bobbing on his palms.] Okay. Yeah. Let's do that. Everybody living in friendship, and for a very long time.
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Yeah, and I'm plannin' on taking a nap until someone figures out how to get her out of there, to be extra safe.
[He's sure talking about being lazy will help this situation. That thought doesn't even feel like a joke.]
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I wonder... do you think. I know we're different than dead bones. But, I figured out how to, um. Animate skeletons. For a little while. Back when I learning how my magic works. [Did Sans catch that during his times lurking around his brother? Just Papyrus, and the dog, and some material components, in a clearing in the woods, making a fish skeleton flop around for a bit.] Do you think, we could make a hand for you, like that...?
[He trails off with the question, second thoughts bubbling up ask he asks. Would the magic that made Sans un-dust allow him to get a prosthetic? Would making it out of real bones be too creepy? Would Sans even want a replacement hand..?]
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Hey, it's worth a shot, right? [Think of all the "give me a hand" jokes that could be made! Of course, the odds of a skeletal hand just sitting around waiting to be used are probably a little slim...] You gonna Frankenstein something together or am I gonna get a big bear claw or somethin'?
[That would look weird and hilarious.]
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...Mmmmmaybe. Why a bear?
[This is because of some pun he's not managing to think of, right? Don't leave him hanging, explain the joke.]
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Oh my god! Now I have to try it. At least once. Nyeh heh heh... Bear-handed. [He wipes a tear from his eyesocket, which is there because he's laughing so hard, and not because this has been such an emotional rollercoaster of a conversation.]
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[Plating bones with gold is evidence of wealth and class, right? Since it's an expensive metal and all.]
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this icon: obligatory
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