[Another fight with Frisk today. Futile to have offered anything. They're not going to associate with the sort of hypocrite who only wants an angel.
There are burns on their fingertips and streaks of ash against their palms. Their eyes are red from smoke. Ha ha, that's a punchline. That hilarious old chestnut about how their eyes are always red.
They tug their sleeves down lower, over their hands, and answer the door.]
Sans.
[Flat. Removed. Not curious. An easier way to be. Should have stuck to being like that all along.
He's got a paper bag. Grown-ups hide their booze in those, Chara knows.]
s'all good bru
There are burns on their fingertips and streaks of ash against their palms. Their eyes are red from smoke. Ha ha, that's a punchline. That hilarious old chestnut about how their eyes are always red.
They tug their sleeves down lower, over their hands, and answer the door.]
Sans.
[Flat. Removed. Not curious. An easier way to be. Should have stuck to being like that all along.
He's got a paper bag. Grown-ups hide their booze in those, Chara knows.]
On your way to a party?
[It's supposed to be another holiday, after all.]