Canyon: Inbox

[spaghettimonster]

INBOX call / text / letter / action FEEL FREE TO CALL OR VISIT ANY TIME! code credit

Comments

[ribticklers]

[The glance to the pie tin and the look on Papyrus's face--as seen from a few slightly different angles, even--makes Sans think that Papyrus might have seen the recipe at some point. It would definitely explain the present beyond Sans having mentioned the idea of family dinners that one time and his baking spree, which probably wouldn't have prompted it. But if Papyrus isn't going to say anything, Sans won't either.]

Yeah, so I figured since I've got this cool new pie tin, I'd give it another shot. [Though considering Papyrus thought it was a quiche last time, Papyrus might not realize Sans gave it a shot before.]

i haven't even watched it myself, why am i making references

[spaghettimonster]

Glad to hear you're not giving up your shot! [Okay, maybe he's been watching musicals while working, the better to practice his casual multitasking. It's proven pretty successful while doing repair work. While having a conversation, somewhat distracting? He puts it on pause, and moves to consider the pie with more of his attention.] It looks... very successfully, a baked pie! [No mistaking it for quiche happening here.] And really smells it, too... I didn't know pies had so much cinnamon in them.

it's okay I've only heard the soundtrack

[ribticklers]

Well, this one's a butterscotch cinnamon pie, so cinnamon's one of the top two ingredients. [Not by volume, though. That would be terrible.]

[spaghettimonster]

One of the top two, huh...? [The other, he assumes, being butterscotch. But beyond the tempting scents of pie, he thinks he smells a pun at play. Once he would've ducked down to squint at the pie, but now his eyes adjust and refocus to zoom in on the details. Is there any chance Sans sprinkled cinnamon on the top of the crust?]

[ribticklers]

[Papyrus might catch Sans's grin widening out of the corner of his eye, because yes, there is indeed cinnamon sprinkled on top. He doesn't say anything; he's just waiting for the reaction.]

[spaghettimonster]

[He does indeed, since he has the ability to glance Sans's way while looking at the saved image of the pie simultaneously. If he wasn't already sure of what that powder was, that grin would give it away.]

Of course you did. Why did I suspect anything else! [His voice is fondly exasperated. This is exactly the kind of nonsense his brother hadn't gotten up to during that rather forced baking spree, which just helps ground the whole situation into what it should have been back then. He's not robot enough to mute his own voice - thankfully? or yet? - so he settles for ducking his head and trying to muffle the sound of the snickering coming out of him.]

[ribticklers]

[Sans's pleased expression is obvious; landing a good/bad joke is always great.] 'Course, that wasn't part of the recipe, but it's probably fine. [The old lady probably would have gotten a kick out of that joke too. She was always the best audience.]

[spaghettimonster]

Probably, but maybe not! What if you've overpowered the recipe with too much cinnamon?? [Baking's a pretty exact science, he's heard. And he keeps squinting at the top of the crust. Is there butterscotch on it too? (Would he recognize butterscotch if there is?)]

[ribticklers]

I didn't add that much extra, it's probably fine. [It may or may not actually be fine. Sans's taste buds being magical and all, stronger tastes work better for him in general anyway. But there's no butterscotch on top; that's inside the pie.

Also, yes, he said it's probably fine twice. That's also probably fine.]

You can't just let a good joke go like that, y'know? ["Good".]

[spaghettimonster]

I can't believe it's a butterscotch and cinnamon pie, but butterscotch isn't one of the top two ingredients. [He is so disappointed, Sans, hear how disappointed he is? It's obviously faked, but the important part is that his tone is audible.] What's the other top ingredient, then?

[ribticklers]

Probably sugar, actually. [You know, just by volume. Sans didn't have extra butterscotch to top the pie with.]

[spaghettimonster]

What a perfect recipe for indulging your sweet tooth... [You know, something something skeleton pun. Even if lots of people have visible teeth, and teeth aren't the same as bone bones. He leans against the counter but continues staring at the pie, with glances towards Sans now and then.]

If you do this some more, we should test how much observing the pie cools it. Is it just the state of being observed?? Does it make a difference if there's more than one person watching?? [That curiosity is why he's loitering here, for sure. Science. And not just grappling with the fact that it smells good and he wants a slice or two. Am alarming impulse, considering... everything. But the fact that he can just sit back seems like a sign it's fine. Right?]

[ribticklers]

We'd need more pies. Control pie, one person pie, two person pie... [A lot of pie.] We could make a chart. [Ask him what kind of chart.]

[spaghettimonster]

[Sans seems a normal amount of enthusiastic about the idea of making all these pies, and Papierus himself isn't feeling any urgency to actually follow through on them. That's another good sign. But the urgency about the chart...] What kind of chart?

[ribticklers]

A pie chart. [That would probably not actually be the best chart to use for this experiment. Sans is delighted.]

[spaghettimonster]

[Through Sans's delight, they're both treated to the increasingly familiar sound of a gloved metal hand clanking against a skull.] Oh my god. If this pie didn't smell so delicious, I would've seen that coming!!

[ribticklers]

[Sans is still pleased with himself, but he's caught a little off-guard by the exact reasoning Papyrus gives him for not having seen that particular pun coming.] You think so? [Too bad he can't let Papyrus have some.]

[spaghettimonster]

Well, not uncannily delicious! [He didn't mean to say so quite that directly, and he dithers for a fraction of a second, weighing whether or not to explain.] It's just. A more successful smelling endeavor than I expected! Congratulations!!! You'll have to tell me how it tastes. After I continue helping you, to cool it faster.

[ribticklers]

I figured. [It hadn't actually occurred to him to be worried about what Papyrus said, mostly because he was busy being surprised. Papyrus had said it smelled good earlier, but it's still not often that Sans does something that actually gets any sort of real praise. (That's Sans's fault, of course, not Papyrus's, but it still makes it rare.)] It might be cool enough to eat. The recipe didn't say how long to wait for the cooling part. [It's been a little while, though.] You do more cooking, what d'you think?

[spaghettimonster]

Cooking, not baking. Those are distinctive culinary arts! [Honestly, Sans. But that doesn't stop Papyrus from tilting his head to consider the slight ripple of heat in the air above the pie. Inconclusive. There's nothing for it - he digs in a drawer to pull out a digital thermometer, and stabs the pie in the center with it. (It doesn't actually splash everywhere, being a narrow tip.)] We will know! Momentarily!

[ribticklers]

Great idea, bro. [Do people usually use thermometers on pies? Sans doesn't know. His brother's ideas are good regardless. It turns out the pie is indeed at eating temperature! Success.]

[spaghettimonster]

Thank you, I am a font of them. [Papyrus: the official font of good ideas. And once the temperature settles at where the pie's at, he nods and pulls the thermometer out.] Looks good! Significantly less warm than magma, significantly warmer than ice.

[And don't mind him just, turning to take the thermometer over to the sink. To clean, clearly. After a couple more sniffs of the inside.]

[ribticklers]

[Okay, that font pun gets a real laugh out of Sans.]

That's good, I don't think I can eat magma. [Sans is going to cut a slice, then. The consistency inside is similar to pumpkin pie. It doesn't immediately collapse into a pie puddle, which Sans is a bit proud of. Of course, he can see Papyrus over by the sink.]

Uh, I'd offer you a slice, but. Y'know. [He would! Except they aren't supposed to do that.]

[spaghettimonster]

...Well. You haven't... actually invited me to have any. Or pointed out that I could wait til later.

[Y'know, like Papyrus had done. He's thinking more about this thought process back then than he cares to at all, trying to remember the ways he'd schemed to get food into people... But Sans really isn't doing any of them. He takes a deep breath, which mostly involves his internal fans kicking up as his indecision leads to things heating up. Maybe... Maybe it's time.]

S-So... So... maybe, just. Put a slice aside. For... in a day or two. When I confirm if you seem... okay.

[ribticklers]

[Is that safe? Well, Sans made pancakes from the batter Papyrus made before. And Papyrus obviously really wants some. Sans is pleased that Papyrus is interested and generally bad at telling him no, so.]

Yeah, sure. You'd start talkin' about how unhealthy I'm being if I ate a whole pie by myself anyway.