[ * LETHE blinked…very slowly. What a strange, pudgy creature… He lowered his head to be eye-level and sort of gazed absently at Sans for an uncomfortably long time. Then his head tipped to the side…inquisitively. ]
* … you seem ….. familiar …….
[ * But he straightened as the lab owner addressed him again. Scram…what a funny word. Perhaps he smiled a bit. LETHE turned his gaze to the corner that was pointed out. If he was anyone else he might have been insulted–but he wasn’t really. He slunk over and sat himself down crosslegged in front of the bowl. He picked it up and began examining it… How interesting. ]
* i will stay ….. because i do not know how to leave..
[ * Simple and yet probably very frustrating to admit. He tapped at the bowl a couple of times with his grossly long fingers… and then put it down and just stared, unblinkingly, at Gaster. ]
Sans followed the orders, keeping his gaze away from the staring fragment and disappearing between towering boxes of research. The sound of an old coffee machine wheezed to life soon after, the glug-glug-hiss of the filter beginning to squeeze the off-brand coffee beans adding to the swirl of machinery in the room.
Gaster tsked at the fragment and their uselessness. It was a situation neither of them wanted to be in, and their willingness to sit in the corner was the only redeeming factor. He walked over to the folder on his desk, opening it up to read, the words of the fragment being lost to the chug of the coffee and the metallic gurgling in the walls.
This continued on for several long minutes until Sans returns, holding two cups of coffee that trailed ribbons of steam. He pushed the one that said ‘Copper Tellirium’ over to Gaster, sipping on his own, grinning as he waited for Gaster to stop reading. He knew he shouldn’t but his eyes kept drifting over to the fragment, dragging his gaze back every time he realized it had wandered closer. Their bone-white face covered in trench-like cracks was so familiar yet alien, just knowing they were there causing his spine to straighten up further.
“Sans,” spoke Gaster, yanking his assistant’s attention to him, “there are some points here that should be explained further in depth. Grab a seat.” Sans’ mind immediately located where his chair was: at his desk; the desk that the stray fragment was closest to.
He remedied this by going over and sitting in Gaster’s chair.
“Sans.” The tone held a threat.
Sans felt perspiration build up at the back of his neck, eye glowing as he pulled the other chair over. Gaster grumbled, grabbing Sans by the collar like a disobedient cat and depositing him into his real seat. The two then began chatting, Gaster bringing up the theories in Sans’ work while Sans explained himself.
They spoke as if the fragment was no longer there, though Sans’ eye still stole peeks.
theartofmadeline
romaincrisis
discoholicmusic
origamiaround
germansingergirl
blakekathryn
kaledo-art
areudirty
dededos
gummygunk
