I know better than to put it past you! Especially what with shortcuts. [Could Sans teleport objects without himself with his powers these days? Papyrus isn't sure. But he's only half-joking about his suspicion of being hustled, as he turns the bolt over in his hands, eyes flickering through every form of perception he's figured out. There's clear reluctance and suspicion as he pulls it closer to his face to spin entirely around, then hands back to Sans.] When you find it hurts to eat, there's no shame in giving up! The house is pretty clean as is, I'm sure chores won't be onerous.
[Sans takes the bolt back.] I'm gonna eat this bolt and you're gonna eat those words. [Sans tosses it into his mouth, where he has positioned one of his invisible hands to catch it. He pulls it back out of his skull and down into his ribcage, letting the hoodie obscure it for him for now.]
Done. [Sans can't exactly open his mouth to show Papyrus, but it is true there was no clattering noise like it dropped through.]
In one gulp, huh? [Papyrus doesn't remotely hide his skepticism and careful study, looking for signs of something getting pulled on him. Can his brother shortcut items without shortcutting himself, again? That's the kind of ability Sans would conceal until he can use it like this. But there's no warning flicker or other tell he can see, and it's hard to make a convincing accusation at Sans without something like that as a backing.] ...How does it taste?
[It's not really a helpful test, he already knows that he's catching flavors in things that did not previously have flavors. The odds that Sans would share them is astronomical. But it's at least the kind of question Sans should have some kind of answer for.]
Chewing wasn't part of the bet. I'd break my teeth. [Not that Sans uses his teeth to chew... That's not the point, okay. He is just the picture of innocence right now, except for how this is Sans and he doesn't really ever look innocent.] Tasted like metal. [Sans has tasted metal before, so he's just going to go with the safe option.] How do they taste to you?
[Despite his intention to keep a close watch on Sans for tells about just what he's pulling here, Papyrus rolls his eyes.] Like, a particularly savory hard candy. A flavor palette you're sorely missing out on! While your guts are surely getting sore. [He focuses a minute, pulls up the recorded memory, starts trimming bits off it.] And, speaking of, digesting was part of the bet. How is that going for you?
No soreness yet. If you're waitin' for me to get a stomachache, you're gonna have to wait for me to get a stomach. [Never mind that he must have some sort of magical stomach... But it's true he's fine. Which is probably only more suspicious.]
Bullshit, you've called out of work for stomachaches before. [Along with a myriad of other implausible excuses, but that doesn't change the fact that they can feel sick. From time to time. Papyrus narrows his eye sockets, crossing his arms as he continues to study Sans's annoying smirk.] Maybe it's not acid, but we worried about batteries for reasons. It's observation time, Sans. [Papyrus isn't conceding this until he can't think of excuses.]
[Sans figured Papyrus would be stubborn about it, first of all because it's Papyrus and second of all because Papyrus is right to be suspicious. Sans shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets and takes advantage of the way his hoodie shifts when he does it to pull his invisible hand down farther, closer to the hem of his shirt. Still well-hidden, but he can't just keep it under there forever; he'll have to dump it somewhere.] Can we observe on the couch? With some TV, maybe. [Maybe a nap. You know. Very serious observation.]
Yeah, okay. [Staring suspiciously at his brother will be more entertaining with an ongoing audio track, at least. And sure, he could just load something up to listen to internally, but then he risks laughing at things nobody else hears. Embarrassing!] In honor of your impending illness and housework, I guess you can even have first pick.
[If Sans teleported to the living room right now, Papyrus would probably throw a fit and maybe call the bet off. Guess he'll have to walk normally again.] I think you mean in celebration of being totally fine and getting burgers.
[Good call, Sans - that would be interpreted as ducking out of sight and hearing to spit it up, or something. As is, he's just listening intently for signs of something like that.] Wow, no! I extremely do not.
[Sans drops into his usual spot on the couch. He could put the bolt in the couch cushions to get rid of later, but Papyrus cleans the couch pretty regularly for some reason. Still might be a good very temporary hiding spot, if he needs a quick place. He grabs the remote.]
Okay, so you've gotta concede eventually. [Sans starts flipping through channels. Aside from the continued ban on talk shows, he's not really committed to anything. Maybe he can find a really terrible movie.]
After a reasonable digestion span. [You know, like in the morning. After he has a chance to check for some kind of trick. (He knows there's some kind of trick.)]
Like you don't fall asleep on the couch all the time. [If he happens to stay in the room watching TV while Sans snoozes and supposedly digests, that's not being a weirdo! Or if it is, Sans has been that weirdo too.]
I guess if you want to watch me do nothing and be totally fine that's cool. [Sans has settled on a stupid science fiction movie. They're watching this now.]
As riveting as the sight of me eating batteries was! [He emphasizes rivet just a little bit, as he settles in for a while keeping an eye out for surreptitious vomiting or casual toothpick use as sleight of hand to pull it out between teeth, or something. Besides, it's not like the boredom of the sight stopped Sans from getting all fluffed wings and agitated the moment Papyrus ate a battery upside down, anyway.]
...It's not like I have a recipe for ghost burgers, anyway. Anything else is a letdown after that. [He is absolutely not confessing to having secretly tried one somewhere, out of an idle curiosity.]
I could try askin' the journal if you really want. [That would be a ridiculous use of a wishing diary. Now that he's settled, Sans slides the bolt carefully out of his hoodie, still using his body to block the sight of an otherwise apparently floating piece of metal. When's the last time Papyrus cleaned under the couch? If he put it there, maybe...]
Maybe after the bet's done, so I can save edible ones for a special occasion. [He's not going to get tricked into maybe trying the good recipe as his end of this bet, Sans! Even if that's a ridiculous use of the diary's odd power.
As for under the couch, it's not spotless. There's a few stray coins, a lost glow-in-the-dark star, a business card from some place. No tools or bolts, it might stand out when it's finally cleaned again, but it's clear it's not cleaned on a daily basis.]
[Plenty of time for Sans to grab the bolt later, when Papyrus isn't around, and throw it out. He'd put it back with the rest of Papyrus's stuff but he can't be completely sure Papyrus wouldn't recognize it somehow. For now, he places it under the couch. Problem temporarily solved.]
I'd better be invited if you do. [Sans is already preparing for theoretical future burgers.]
Making good burgers and not inviting you... That sounds like a punishment for something. [Great idea, Sans! He's only half-jokingly tucking it aside for later.
As for the bolt - he absolutely memorized its appearance to better recognize it if it did wind up in the workshop.]
I'm sure you wouldn't! And yet, you do love to surprise people. [Anything bad enough to warrant denial of ghost burgers would be very serious, don't even try imagining what would require that.]
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Done. [Sans can't exactly open his mouth to show Papyrus, but it is true there was no clattering noise like it dropped through.]
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[It's not really a helpful test, he already knows that he's catching flavors in things that did not previously have flavors. The odds that Sans would share them is astronomical. But it's at least the kind of question Sans should have some kind of answer for.]
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You've gotta give up eventually.
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[There's a difference, somewhere. In the way one stops before it's time, while one carries through to a reasonable end.]
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...It's not like I have a recipe for ghost burgers, anyway. Anything else is a letdown after that. [He is absolutely not confessing to having secretly tried one somewhere, out of an idle curiosity.]
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As for under the couch, it's not spotless. There's a few stray coins, a lost glow-in-the-dark star, a business card from some place. No tools or bolts, it might stand out when it's finally cleaned again, but it's clear it's not cleaned on a daily basis.]
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I'd better be invited if you do. [Sans is already preparing for theoretical future burgers.]
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As for the bolt - he absolutely memorized its appearance to better recognize it if it did wind up in the workshop.]
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I don't think Papyrus will solve this mystery in time, ghost hands out of sight out of mind