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.]
Everybody's gonna be jealous. You could start a whole business like this. Just gotta make sure to bone up on your business skulls. [Maybe this isn't accomplishing the goal of getting memories back, but Sans is sure he's glad Papyrus is his brother, even if he can't remember the specifics, so this is actually pretty cool.]
My business skills, huh..? [What's involved in a business, anyway? Supply, demand, and exposure, right? Plus overhead costs...] Hey, who knows! Maybe I'm already an accomplished businessman. Who knows how long ago that training stuff was.
[Why he would switch from training as an accomplished warrior to running a business is a mystery... but, it could have always gone the other way around. A simple businessman, taking up arms to fight for their country, or something.]
What??? You do?? [Somehow he has never crossed paths with Sans' elusive snack stall. The downsides of coming to Miso Fou's too often, apparently!] What do you sell?
Stuff from Miso Fou's. It was easier when I was sellin' stuff from the moonbase. [Which is why it doesn't appear as often now. But it still does sometimes...]
Uhhhhhhh. [Papyrus stiffens, and very carefully glances at the squid chef out of the corner of his eyesockets. Did he hear that? Are they going to get kicked out for this, or does Sans have an agreement about it?
Why is his first assumption that Sans is breaking a law here...?]
And. That. Works? Selling things... people could already get? By coming here?
Oh my god. [This time, it is not praise, or even surprise. Somehow, it's familiar exasperation as bad as that time he started accusing Sans of oversleeping. Why is this familiar???]
If it's convenient for people, reselling it wherever they are... I guess that's okay. [He hesitates, then plows ahead, unable to just sit peacefully with his mysterious worries.] You're paying enough here, right?
You don't tip??? [Papyrus is, perhaps, a little overwrought by the whole conversation, a little on edge. His brother, the criminal. Is this squawk of dismay and outrage familiar?
It's sincere, either way. Just because Miso Fou is kind enough to give food away doesn't stop Papyrus from trying to pay. Sometimes with rocks. Sometimes with coin. Sometimes, when Miso Fou tries to refuse the coin, by dropping it in the water over the edge of the bar. But the important thing is, he exchanged something for the thing received.]
[The dog, which is still around, manages to sneer at the mere mention of the dogfish food. It is not for dogs. Papyrus is too busy still feeling a torrent of way-too-familiar outrage.]
What?? That doesn't count, getting it from him, and just giving it back! You have to give him something. Or, it's just... [Don't make him say it. Don't make him describe your crimes, Sans.]
[Sans digs through his pockets. F-USB cord, Bunyan's Belt, Folding Boat, Peek-a-Boo With Fluffy Bunny, a bag of mysterious powder, an autographed ice cream wrapper... There, cash. Sans tosses a couple gold coins on the table.] There, done.
[That's a lot of pocket rifling, and if Papyrus a little less agitated, he would be snooping. As it is, he just watches the coins arc and settle in place.]
From the snack shack. The rest isn't because of... You know. [He gestures to signal Miso Fou, who is still busy cooking something for some other customers, and hopefully not eavesdropping on all of Sans's confessions of reselling at an outrageous profit.]
Again with the hot dogs? [Papyrus freezes, this time in the way of a skeleton who has spoken without thinking, and then been completely surprised by the words coming out of his mouth. You know, that feeling.]
...I guess. You've sold hot dogs before. But what's spice root?? [He doesn't seem to have any complaints coming to his mouth about that one. Or the cookies.]
Ohhh. [Well, it sounds like Sans is at least adding something to the things he's selling. Contributing some kind of improvement that makes the profit a little bit justifiable. Maybe not the utter criminal Papyrus was starting to suspect.
But in the name of that suspicion, and laying some ground rules, he has to say:] Sans. Don't give me spicy cookies.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[Plating bones with gold is evidence of wealth and class, right? Since it's an expensive metal and all.]
no subject
no subject
[Why he would switch from training as an accomplished warrior to running a business is a mystery... but, it could have always gone the other way around. A simple businessman, taking up arms to fight for their country, or something.]
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Why is his first assumption that Sans is breaking a law here...?]
And. That. Works? Selling things... people could already get? By coming here?
no subject
It helps if they don't know they can get it here. Or if it's pretty far away from this place.
no subject
If it's convenient for people, reselling it wherever they are... I guess that's okay. [He hesitates, then plows ahead, unable to just sit peacefully with his mysterious worries.] You're paying enough here, right?
no subject
no subject
It's sincere, either way. Just because Miso Fou is kind enough to give food away doesn't stop Papyrus from trying to pay. Sometimes with rocks. Sometimes with coin. Sometimes, when Miso Fou tries to refuse the coin, by dropping it in the water over the edge of the bar. But the important thing is, he exchanged something for the thing received.]
no subject
[He does not know Papyrus is responsible for that particular menu item.]
no subject
What?? That doesn't count, getting it from him, and just giving it back! You have to give him something. Or, it's just... [Don't make him say it. Don't make him describe your crimes, Sans.]
no subject
[That probably counts for everything.]
no subject
...Okay. And how much have you made...?
no subject
no subject
no subject
[Yeah. Sans does not really need this money.]
no subject
no subject
this icon: obligatory
...I guess. You've sold hot dogs before. But what's spice root?? [He doesn't seem to have any complaints coming to his mouth about that one. Or the cookies.]
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
But in the name of that suspicion, and laying some ground rules, he has to say:] Sans. Don't give me spicy cookies.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)