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[A weak laugh escapes, a hint of static to the sound. Ridiculous as it is, he's starting to believe that bit about couch naps. Clearly they're grounding, profoundly mundane in a way that helps to shake off all the extremes of emotion and pressure to change into something More that their underground neighbor keeps shoving their way. The difference a year's perspective can bring...]

Good, I'll have mine. [...Obviously. Maybe his nerves are getting the best of him.] I'll be back later!! [It's a promise, because for all his eagerness to get away from here for a bit, he does remember that relief at the start of the void godding round 2. They're still here together. Despite... everything.]

[The reassurance that Papyrus will be back later is another thing that he probably shouldn't feel so reassured by, but he clings to that anyway.

Sans is true to his word today: he ends up almost entirely buried under his heated blanket. Only his halo is sticking out enough to see the television. They're trying to sell some super absorbent towel or something. The guy sounds way too excited about this super towel, which is funny. Good background noise. Still hard to sleep. His mind keeps working, after all, reminding him of everything it can piece together of the last two weeks. Of messing around with Papyrus's mind over and over.

Still, raw exhaustion wins over sometimes. On and off, he catches snatches of unconsciousness. He does his best to keep his hands off his feathers, which is to say he only tugs a few more out.]

[A couple hours pass with Papyrus out of the house, no texts sent. He wants Sans to actually get some rest, after all, and the sound of text messages wouldn't help with that... But maybe there's a degree of relief in the escape, and not wanting to break a good thing with talking. Alas that the silence is long enough for all kinds of worries and self-hatred to churn in Sans's skull unimpeded.

In one of those periods of restlessness, when Sans tugs another of the feathers out, his phone buzzes with a text message. Not from Papyrus's number, but it is a number with an existing text history - the same unnamed number as before, with a similar message.]

Are you feeling any better now?
It seemed like
This time really hit you hard.

[Sans reaches for his phone automatically. No flinching from the vibration or handling it like just touching something so solid is a struggle; the phone is just a phone again. The text message he got, though... Sans's feathers stand on end.]

who is this?

[He wants something more concrete than he got last time. Unless whoever it was who Papyrus contacted last time also ran into him in the city the last couple of weeks? Talk about bad timing. Or don't. Sans doesn't want to talk about any of it. Still.]

[A non-answer, but not an evasive one - that's a direct question back. Not Sans's usual or preferred communication style, and indicates wariness and suspicion. Something of an ultimatum - if the directness isn't met with a plausible and direct answer, then... Sans will likely cut the conversation off. Silence, possibly blocking the number. And that wouldn't be a real obstacle, but it would mean setting up another dummy number if he wants to evade additional suspicion and find another avenue for doing the checkup Papyrus fled from doing.

...Which, he does want to evade. If Sans risks the honesty to tell Papyrus about the message and hand over the phone, it could mean... Papyrus getting a hold of him. And... he really doesn't want to be overwritten, either.]

I don't
I really don't know how to answer that.
I'm kind of a concerned neighbor.
Is that enough?

buddy
do you know where we are?

[Concerned neighbor could mean anything. Could be Okpaza taking a really weird new approach.]

anyway i'm good

[Might as well just lie. Should he ask if he messed with their head? No, that's--he has no idea how to approach that.]

[There's the expected evasion. An obvious lie, preceded by the use of 'buddy'. High likelihood they're already past the point of acceptable suspicion.

...Yet, the number's not blocked yet. Potentially salvageable. Draw it out. Sans likes stupid jokes.]

On a phone.

[...The joke is probably funnier to him than Sans will find it. Oh well. Giving a more accurate answer, like listing the address, would likely only add to the suspicion and wariness... But maybe a different kind of truth would help.]

Username RustyX2.
I could make a network post

[Oh, then Sans has spoken to him before. Well, assuming they're telling the truth. They're still willing to tell jokes, which does lend some credulity to the idea of this being the same person.]

sure
shoot me a dm

[Prove it, basically.]

Okay

[It takes a good minute, because while the network allows for private posts, they're not particularly secure - and he wants to make this as secure as he can. After that moment, a message shows up visible only (theoretically, hopefully, but probably not) to Sans.]

text: un: RustyX2
subject: DM shot

Wasn't lying

[He should have asked if he wanted to bet. Now what? It's Sans's move.]

[There they are. By now, Sans is pretty sure they're some sort of mechanical, just based on how they've interacted.]

guess not
and now i'm dm bleeding to death

[did you, sans starts, and then deletes.]

need anything else?

[Sans said he was fine. That's good enough, right?]

[Heh. Good sign that he's playing along, at least. But there's the dismissal - this is probably the last exchange Sans will allow, his last chance to make this checkup a helpful one.]

Just to say thanks.
For helping last time,
So I knew I wasn't alone.

[That's a polite thing to say, and something that should show a not very suspicious reason for getting in touch, right? He thinks so. At least it's the best option that he's thought of. But that's not quite enough. After a couple seconds delay, he adds:]

You're not alone either.

[Sans looks at the message, rereads it a couple of times. If Rusty did run into him while Sans was--like he was the past two weeks, then they should probably be more upset with him. This is something else, though. He hardly knows how to handle this kind of thing from Papyrus; from someone who's a suspicious stranger, it's even more baffling.

Well, he did say Rusty could let him know if they needed to know other people were still there.]

yeah
guess other people are still around
gotta keep an eye on that kind of thing

[He doesn't think he's going to say anything else. But he doesn't block the number, either.]

Yeah
But thanks again.

[It'll be okay, he doesn't bother to say, not when it would be rejected even harder than anything else he's said. Goodbye, he thinks he hates saying, and anyway it would be a lie Sans has no real way of detecting - a terrible end for this exchange. You're welcome, he doesn't even bother to draft except in his own thoughts. And those, he regularly reviews, summarizes, and deletes - so as to not take up too much memory or processing power.

The microphone continues picking up noise but not the familiar cadence of Sans or Papyrus's voices - the television, likely. He sets a few flags to grab his attention if something changes, then settles to review and re-review the conversation.

Elsewhere, Papyrus's shopping has him standing in the midst of a home improvement store, distracted in the middle of the aisle full of lighting features. They're all illuminated to better showcase the details, and he's staring somewhat vacantly into them. Something about this felt deeply comforting, or maybe it was a secondhand comfort...? Is this just memories from one of the times Sans tried dumping void in his head, first thing in the morning after the night of light gazing...?

Sooner or later, another person walking down the aisle distracts him from the staring haze, possibly with a rude comment about monsters. It's enough to shake him from the memories and thoughts, and to continue up the aisles to consider options for stairs - and maybe other things. There's no texts for a while, until suddenly he sends a picture of an enormous bathtub without explanation.]

Edited 2022-10-16 03:51 (UTC)

[Sans settles back down after that weird conversation, but not before adding the number to his contacts as "rusty" so he can keep an eye on it. Sans tries not to think about anything, listens to people selling fancy kitchen knives talk about cutting tomatoes, until he gets another text message. Papyrus this time, and Sans hesitates for just a moment before opening it. That sure is a picture of a bathtub.]

big tub
are you renovating the bathroom?

[Or maybe building another one?]

CONSIDERING IT.

["Big" is a disappointingly unenthusiastic response to the tub, but it's probably as much as he could expect from Sans without explaining... And, then, the bird health advice is all about the actual taking of baths. Maybe it just won't have the stress-soothing appeal without already being full of warm water.

He sends another image anyway - this one taken from an online vendor's example of the tub in a bathroom, where the scale compared to the other features in the room makes it clear that this bath is large enough for Papyrus to stretch out.]

MORE SPECIFICALLY, CONSIDERING FIRST FLOOR PLANS.
EXPANDING THE WORKSHOP SEEMS COOL...
BUT WALKING TO THE THIRD FLOOR TO CLEAN OFF??? RIDICULOUS.
AND WHY RESTRICT MYSELF TO A PRACTICAL SHOWER,
WHEN WE COULD HAVE A FULL WASH ROOM.
CAN'T HAVE ZERO BATHS ON THE GROUND FLOOR,
WHEN THAT'S WHERE THE DIRT IS!

[Looks like they're getting a three-story house now. Well, they kind of already had that once Papyrus lifted up the house, but it sounds like it's going to be a bit more than just a workshop extension. Seriously, that is a huge tub.]

so now i can sleep in the bath?
cool

[It does look comfortable. Unless Papyrus wants this to be a private robot bathroom, which is fine too.]

[Nyeh heh heh. The bait is hooked. Or however fishing metaphors work, the details aren't relevant to the point here.]

YES, FROM TIME TO TIME, I GUESS!!
SINCE I'LL NEED A SHOWER FOR QUICK PRACTICAL CLEANING TOO.
BUT... DON'T THINK, FOR A MOMENT, THAT THIS MEANS IT'S A NEW BEDROOM.
BATHROOM IS RIGHT THERE IN THE NAME!!
NO GETTING RID OF YOUR BEDROOM STUFF.

[Maybe it's a misplaced accusation / concern to throw out there like that, but he's not about to take it back. Even if that furniture was all purchased under... a different set of unfortunate mind-changing circumstances, than these last two weeks' unfortunate circumstances... No take-backs of the good stuff.]

i'm not moving out of my bedroom
i don't think you're supposed to use heated blankets in the bathroom

[Especially not in the bathtub. Sans isn't thinking about the implications regarding the rest of the stuff in Sans's bedroom; it would be too much work to throw it all out, first of all. Second, he's trying deliberately not to think too much into the implications of anything right now. Easier to just have a dumb conversation with Papyrus at a distance, if Papyrus is allowing it.]

THAT'S RIGHT, THEY'RE ILLEGAL OR SOMETHING.

[The details of the reasoning aren't that important to him, when what is important is adding that extra pressure to embrace the bath - yet not too much. Maybe that's achieved it.

Now that he's texting Sans instead of avoiding interacting, it's easy to banter bullshit - easier to act cool without the signs of Sans's expression or voice or posture, or the sight of small patches in his wings or that strain around his eye sockets. Hopefully enough bullshit chatter will keep this casualness lasting even through returning home!!!!]

MAYBE HEATED TOWELS, IF THEY EXIST.
BUT I'M NOT AT A HOME GOODS STORE,
SO THAT QUESTION WILL HAVE TO WAIT!!

HEY, WHAT KINDS OF CHEESE DO YOU LIKE BEST?

[It might be a jarring switch of topic, to someone who wasn't having simultaneous different trains of thought. Heated towels shouldn't lead to cheese, and a skeleton who's going to go from a home improvement store to a grocery store could easily fit a home goods store in between... not to mention, he's blatantly capable of shopping online. Even his internal model of normal Papyrusness is a little too overtaxed to flag things like this, though.]

there's no such thing as bad cheese
do they sell that at the hardware store now?

[A flippant response, but yeah, that really seemed to come out of nowhere. Sans is sure it has some internal logic to it from Papyrus's end, but Sans isn't making the connection here. Also, why is Papyrus out theoretically buying him cheese?]

HOW SHOULD I KNOW, I HAVEN'T CHECKED EVERY AISLE YET.
BUT THEY SHOULD, THERE'S HARD CHEESES.

[Not his smoothest, now that he's having that delayed realization of screwing up his own logic... But he's half-convinced himself with that pun. They have candy near the registers, and they sell fridges anyway, why not have a display fridge with cheese in it to fuel shoppers?]

I SHOULD GET GROCERIES ANYWAY.
IS THERE EVEN ANYTHING EDIBLE IN THE FRIDGE??

[How much was Sans eating food rather than subsisting on dreams these last couple weeks, after all? It was a cover story when he said it, but now he's cross-referencing all his clearer memories for indications. A pity he hadn't gone snacking on anything while taking stock of things earlier... Though, actually, he has drones for that. Somewhere, a small helicopter takes to the air to hover near the fridge and hope for Sans to open it.]

i don't know
hang on
[Sans looks in the direction of the refrigerator from his cocoon on the couch, then from one of the eyes in the kitchen. Considers for a moment. He pokes his left arm out of the blanket and motions, opening the refrigerator door from a distance. Then he pulls up the photo option on his phone, sets it to a timer, and floats the phone into the kitchen. Once he's got the phone back and the refrigerator door closed, he sends Papyrus the photo.

Sans didn't even look at it, but he hasn't touched any actual food in two weeks, having eaten only dreams. Someone definitely needs to go grocery shopping and also maybe clean out that fridge.]

[Between Sans's photo and what the helicopter makes out, it's a worrying situation. Good thing some very responsible subconscious process brought the cheese topic up now, he guesses!!]

OH MY GOD, THAT'S A MESS.
I'VE NEVER BEEN SO GLAD NOT TO NEED FOOD???
...
AS MUCH FOOD, I MEAN.
MAYBE ORDER SOME TAKEOUT!
I'M GOING TO NEED TO EMPTY AND SCRUB THAT THING.

ok

[Sans isn't really hungry right now. Probably because he was feeding off of everyone he was "helping" for two weeks. He's not sure if he could still do that; he wasn't feeding off of their dreams, usually, but--

Don't think about that anymore. Maybe don't think about anything. Sans fists his hands back in his wings but stops himself from pulling. Good for him.]

[Papyrus's own sense of what his brother's like flags that monosyllabic reply, countless instances of unhelpful texts and sticky notes coming to mind. He recognizes an apathetic agreement when he sees one.]

AND ORDER SOMETHING FOR ME TOO!!!!

[Maybe then Sans will actually order something, instead of agreeing and lying around in bed. Or... grabbing his wings and just holding them instead of neatening them...? Apparently Papyrus directed the helicopter to the living room, or absent-mindedly followed the floating phone back, or something he no longer remembers (accidentally deleted? no sign of something deleted, weird) - because there the little toy is hovering in sight of the couch and Sans's cocoon there. It's a pose that doesn't look like ordering takeout, so he's vindicated in both the instruction and the following.]

proposal: time skips, 1st Tracker texting w/ Papyrus out, 2nd later them Not Dealing w/ things well?

works for me

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