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.
Really? [Somehow, the answer is better than he'd been expecting. That's more than one cookie sale on the counter. Incredible.] Well! Don't leave me hanging. One toasty warm cookie, please.
[It's just a second to grab a coin out of his own pockets and offer it. The better to really test his brother's character.]
It's all about hooking repeat customers, huh... [He doesn't immediately pocket that coin, in case it's worth buying a second. Instead he carefully plucks one cookie out with his other hand, holds it near his face, as if to sniff, and takes a careful test bite.]
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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?
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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.]
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[He does not know Papyrus is responsible for that particular menu item.]
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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.]
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[That probably counts for everything.]
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...Okay. And how much have you made...?
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[Yeah. Sans does not really need this money.]
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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.]
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But in the name of that suspicion, and laying some ground rules, he has to say:] Sans. Don't give me spicy cookies.
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[Well. Maybe sometime. With a big glass of milk on hand. But not at random. Not a surprise spicy spice cookie.]
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How much are they, with the discount?
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[It's just a second to grab a coin out of his own pockets and offer it. The better to really test his brother's character.]
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