ribticklers | Inbox

[A more insecure skeleton might fret about how easily his brother went into a different normal routine. About how easily the world moved on, heedless of his own mental state or the things he was getting up to. Not that he wants people sad to prove he matters - he grew past that years ago - but sometimes... He shakes his head, pushes past old doubts to focus on fishing for answers.]

Just a regular Sans outing, huh? [That's not looking good for his budding theory about Sans needing sunlight, and that being part of why he's sleeping so much harder at night. Although, if Sans is only awake for stargazing...] Why's starlight so dim, if stars are suns...?

[Sans always gets sidetracked by stars. The speed at which he hops tracks on this conversation to space, though, is whiplash-inducing even for him.] Part of it's just that they're so far away. The sun's basically in our living room by comparison. But there's also light pollution. We're in a big city, so you've gotta go out of the way to really see 'em. It'd be even better if we could get some distance, yeah? Get out of the canyon, go somewhere real dark. Or cut off the power supply to the city. [That doesn't sound like a joking idea. It does sound like something Sans has accepted as infeasible, though, if nothing else.] If it gets really dark, you're supposed to be able to see the milky way--y'know, the galaxy we're in--but wow, human cities are bright.

[On the bright side, Papyrus is thoroughly and effortlessly distracted from his self-conscious worries. On the dimmer side, that's because he's suddenly grappling with the fact that apparently Sans has contemplated sabotaging the power grid to go stargazing this last week. His eye sockets go wide by the end of the spiel.]

Maybe. You could. Petition the mayor? For a lights-out night. [He floats the idea in careful, pointed phrases, unsure if bringing it up again makes it worse, or builds an alternative for Sans to explore the next time he's really wanting to go stargazing. This is not ruling out any of his theories about Sans and sunlight. If there's enough other star enthusiasts who'd want the lights out, and all the robots have enough warning in advance to charge... It still sounds awful, and Papyrus eats the battery before he knows it. Vinegar sour again, at least.]

Huh, you think she'd go for that? [Sans latches onto the idea with a surprising amount of enthusiasm. Or maybe just a continued amount of surprising, given what Sans was saying a few moments previous. Papyrus seems alarmed about something, and it's not exactly that Sans doesn't notice, but his thoughts are sluggish about actually working out why.] Maybe with a little advertising--there's gotta be other people who are into the stars, I mean who wouldn't like stars, they're out of this world. Could probably push the power-saving angle, too, humans don't have a Core, and turning everything off would save elec--

[Electricity. Which Papyrus needs. He just ate another battery. Sans took a shortcut back to the hotel specifically for this. And Sans was just talking about cutting the power, or turning everything off. This time, it's less that he hops conversational tracks and more that the conversational train completely derails. It's a pretty messy wreck.]

Actually, maybe I shouldn't do that.

[It's a trainwreck of thought, but almost a reassuring one. Seeing Sans's eye sockets suddenly blanking out means he's hearing what he's saying, at least, and can backtrack from it. So it's not like the experiment thing.]

Not as an everyday thing, no! But, if you need to, go see stars? I'm sure everyone can work something out. [He's now pretty thoroughly of the opinion that Sans needs sunlight and stargazing as badly as Papyrus, apparently, needs to eat electricity. So he can extend a little sympathy and compromise for the particular intensity that comes with being hungry for something and not yet knowing what.

His smile is about as fixed as the one he offered the human, though.]

I don't need to. [That response has nothing to do with it being true or not--Sans doesn't know--so much as Sans thinks saying that out loud will do something to stop his mind from turning in that direction again. The look on Papyrus's face brings back bad memories, but it's not like Sans doesn't deserve to have a reminder if he's started thinking like that.] It's not like I can't see stars already. I don't need to see more of 'em.

[He just wants to. And he'd have wanted to before, when he was normal, but not like this, so it's better if he just pushes the entire urge away.]

Yyyyes, I guess you were already looking at stars. [Sarcasm isn't cool, but that doesn't stop Papyrus's voice from going dry. It's almost like starlight is a want already being taken care of, so there's no need for new weird cravings to interrupt his days, or something. What does he know, he's only sitting here eating batteries thanks to being a robot.

But he doesn't want to push an argument that badly, not when they're still living in the same hotel suite, without so much as his own room to retreat to when frustrated, so he doesn't keep snarking. Instead, he rustles in the bag, pulling out two AAA batteries to consider.]

I don't really need to do that, either. [And now Sans is digging his heels in about the whole thing, because maybe what he needs is star detox. He's already sleeping almost as soon as night falls unless he decides it's a star night, so if he just skips the stars and sleeps that's not that big of a change. If it's making him the kind of person who would starve Papyrus without even realizing, he'll starve those thoughts out of himself instead. In fact, he is done talking about this. His topic change is not even a bit subtle.] How was that last battery?

[As surprising and unfamiliar as a few of the twists in this conversation have been, the signs of Sans just completely disengaging from a topic haven't changed. Papyrus scoffs, scowls at the ceiling for a second, and rolls the new batteries back and forth in his hand.]

It's... fine. [To changing the topic, he means in a frustrated way, but it works for an answer too.] It tasted about the same.

[He doesn't specify which it was the same as, but nothing's watering and he's not grabbing for his water. That's all he offers, finding himself too bitter to want to describe more. This feels worse than trying to talk to their killer - at least he thought he understood what was happening with them. Anybody can change for the better, he's sure. But... how do you choose to change, when the you that decides to gets changed for you by something else, without you even noticing until you find yourself doing weird things? It is the worst kind of puberty.]

[Sans picks up on the signs Papyrus isn't exactly pleased with this topic change, but since Papyrus follows along on it, that's fine. Okay, not fine, but good enough. Of course, his description isn't exactly descriptive. Since Papyrus didn't immediately go for more water Sans can guess he doesn't mean spicy. Sans attempts to sprawl out further on the table and executes the dangerous double topic change.]

Got about another month in the hotel room. You looked at options yet?

Yet? Of course I have. [He's offended by the double topic change, but even more by the question. Who does Sans think he's talking to?] I started looking the first week.

[Of course, that was mostly pre-planning and idle curiosity, and his specifications for a fitting place have changed a lot in the weeks since then. But now he might need some new criteria for a future home. Like a place with a generator, to be on the safe side. Even trusting Sans... mostly... There's still other people who might not know and care about any robot-people in particular.]

[Sans's perpetual grin becomes a touch more real at the edges in spite of himself. That's his brother, alright.] Anything standing out? I've got enough saved up for it, as long as you're not aiming for the real expensive areas.

[When they'd first arrived, Sans hadn't actually been sure if Papyrus would pick the city or somewhere a little more remote. Now, though, Sans is guessing they're staying in the city, and he definitely can't pull off payments in the heart of downtown.]

[The bitterness doesn't fade so quickly, not from anything as small and unapologetic as a faint smile. Papyrus shrugs instead of answering right away, a small lifting of his shoulders, emphasized thanks to the shoulder pads of his restored battle body. The sensation tugs at his feelings, bringing up a bit of guilt and gratitude - it was Sans that did most of the repairs, after all. Even if he's avoiding dealing with his own problems.

Then again, it is Sans. Papyrus's shoulders shake in a faint, silent laugh to himself. What was he expecting, again? At least this is normal, in a way.]

...Nothing outstanding. It's not as crowded as New Home... There's places to rent... But not one with the right stuff, yet.

We've got some time. [Of course, Sans is very good at putting things off, but they do have another month here, so it's not like they're going to be on the street tomorrow. On the other hand, the sooner they find a place, the sooner Papyrus can have his own space again. They're not exactly crowded into the suite, but Sans is pretty sure nobody except Papyrus would put up with having Sans as a suitemate, and even then it's not the greatest time.] You'll find a cool place sooner or later.

Of course I will! [He says it with a usual confidence, gripping the batteries rather than continue rolling them. It's harder than usual, to say of course and feel like it means anything. He means it, he means to mean it, right now. Will the person who's Papyrus tomorrow still mean it...?

It's not even night, and he's already thinking things like that. Apparently eating batteries makes him existential. That, or thinking about city-wide power outages does. Either way, there's no point dwelling on them. He'll do whatever he can do, and a little bit more than that, and it'll work out. Even dying worked out better than expected. So will anything else. Eventually.]

...You're not going to sleep soon, right? I want to watch TV. [You know, one of those great things electricity provides. He gets the feeling Sans wants to keep supervising the 'food' experiment, but there's no sense being bored or irritated the whole while.]

Nah, it's not even dark yet. [Sans may be going to sleep earlier, but he does at least wait until it's dark out, naps excepted. He's tempted to suggest the science channel, but the odds of it being a space program are too high.] I'm up for turning into a couch potato. [He has already turned into something else once, might as well keep going.] You can pick the show.

Yes?? It was my idea?? [Papyrus doesn't know what to make of the offer, he'd so thoroughly assumed it would be his pick in the first place. But he's trying to not pick a fight, so he offers:] If you absolutely hate it, you can veto. But only once or twice.

[Whatever they wind up watching, it's no MTT TV. Sure, there's a few different channels in the valley, with more variety to the stardom, and that's something. But as Papyrus watches, digesting the batteries with no ill effects, he finds himself freshly homesick.]

[Sans doesn't veto the show. Instead, he divides his attention between whatever Papyrus is watching and Papyrus's battery-eating escapades. Sans thinks he'd rather have to eat batteries than have all his priorities get mixed around without his realizing until he trips right over them. But it's fine, he can sort that out himself. It's better than being dead.

Sans ends up dozing on the couch a little in spite of himself.]

Inbox

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

press [x] to doubt

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject