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

[chronosynthesis]

Specifically. [Syrlya lowers his tone to match.] Did you pursue them?

[osteothropy]

Kinda.

[Presently, Sans is hunkered down on the roof of one of skyscrapers nearest to the Penthouse where CY-Ren purportedly lives. There's a bit of wind in the background when his button is pressed down.]

The Star Guardian said she might take them to her penthouse. So, I maybe beat them there. I'm watching from one of the rooftops. The triplets are watching from the streets.

[chronosynthesis]

[It's a relief, at least, to hear he's not engaging.] There's been no sign of activity, yet? You'll let us know if there is--and leave before you're spotted.

[It's said much more like a request than a demand. He can't boss Sans around but he can at least ask him to be clever.]

[osteothropy]

None upstairs... but... somethin' is preventing me from teleporting inside. Something's gotta be up with that.

We need to get a visual on those captives, to know something isn't happening to them...

[There's an obvious note of anxiety in Sans's voice, even if he's trying to bury it in being gruff.]

[chronosynthesis]

I do not doubt something is happening to them. [People getting kidnapped are rarely treated well. He can't really comfort Sans that those people aren't likely in danger of torture because, honestly, that's probably exactly what's going down.] But we cannot afford to be caught in a trap or a fight we are outmatched for.

[And it sounds like they were completely outmatched at the concert.]

[osteothropy]

[Goddamnit, fuck off Syrlya. He feels himself get angry at his assertion, his emotions having no patience for what is undoubtedly an accurate guess.]

I know how this goes, okay? [He snaps, pressing a hand over his eyes on his side of the radio.] I know it better than anyone. So spare me the crap, okay?

[chronosynthesis]

[There's Just the briefest sound of irritation through pressed lips, but he mostly holds it down.]

Fine. Where in Wismuth is her... penthouse?

[Address, directions, they might need them.]