IC CONTACT

[osteothropy]

✆CHANNEL FREQUENCY: 800.80085
DESCRIPTION: Sans will frequently ignore messages about stuff he doesn't want to deal with, but the second something of importance comes up on the channel he will appear as if he's been listening intently all along.

✉MAIL BOX LOCATION: Novelty Skeleton Statue
DESCRIPTION: There is a skeleton statue next to his trailer door with an extended, bowl-like lower jaw, that looks like it's meant for putting Halloween candy in. He would like it if you did. It's technically his mailbox, though, so mail is probably fine, too.

Comments

[spaghettimonster]

You want to stop...?

[Confused, disappointed. Because that's the only reason he can think of, for ending the conversation right now, just like this. He doesn't want to, not yet knowing Sans believes in him, in his judgement. That he won't feel hurt, when Papyrus invites Flowey back to the trailer. That he's...

That he's going to be okay, eventually. That he knows Papyrus believes in him. After all, anything that applied to Flowey, about wanting to believe in him and support him, surely applies at least as much to Sans.

But... maybe he can't say any of those things, and silently leaving is the most honest thing he could do.

Papyrus nods slowly. If that's the case, then, well, it's better than lying reassuringly to his face. Even if it's hard to feel that it is, right this moment, longer-term the practice at honesty is better.]

It's fine if you want to! This... These are difficult topics to traverse.

[Difficult for both of them. Maybe they could just do this in... little pieces.]

We could end it like, a more ordinary conversation. Go to the mess hall, get a glass of milk, something to eat! Do something... normal.

[osteothropy]

[It's not really that he wants to stop, but when he can't see the way forward it seems easier to.]

I just dunno what to say. I know... this is how you feel. But I can't. I don't think I can feel that way right now. Maybe I don't know how anymore.

[He can't manage to make eye contact while he says it, because it if him feels lacking in all of the traits that he finds himself holding dear. That kindness is one of the things he is in constant awe of, with his brother. How could he keep up arguing against it, even while it hurt?]

But...

[His voice gets tighter and lower, like he's struggling to make himself speak at all.]

I don't wanna... go back. To how it was. Running away and making excuses. So... If that's somewhere we can go. Getting milk or whatever.

Then ok.

[spaghettimonster]

Yeah... okay.

[Papyrus nods, quick and sharp, and easily enough reassures:]

You can get a glass of milk with me anytime!

[It's probably best that Sans drink it, too. All that sickness and injury... the calcium would surely do him good.

But before they do this, before they leave this place and this conversation behind, with Sans so visibly discouraged... There's one more thing he needs to say. Even through Sans' choked-up voice, that he can already tell is contagious... that he's sure is part of why they never talk about these things, always retreating to jokes and evasions and bantering arguments.

They're so... different, about what they struggle with, that it's hard to know what to say.]

And... take the rest of it a little bit at a time. I believe in your potential! It may take a long time, for it's surely painful and difficult, but, that's okay. Just... take it easy, easy enough, for you to keep going, in some direction or another, besides back. Okay?

[osteothropy]

[Sans pauses, looking up at Papyrus despite having been lowkey avoiding meeting eyes with him a few moments before. That's... okay. He finds himself a little overwhelmed by the sentiment, mostly because it's validating in a way that catches him off guard.

He's quiet for few moments, his arms wrapped around his chest. Until, finally...]

I'm gunna. I mean. That's... what I'm going for. So... yeah.

[He pauses, and then tries to sound a bit more positive and decisive as he adds:]

Thanks.