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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spaghettimonster) wrote2021-07-31 02:32 am
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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