[He'd been putting off inspecting his neck too long as it was, since he hadn't found any good way of avoiding acknowledging it save hiding it under the helmet. Taking off all his outer casings to look for more bits of rust... Too time-intensive for letting Sans be a floor lump during it, and he's not about to exile his brother somewhere else when weird distressing things just happened. Instead, Papyrus shrugs.]
Sometime later! We'll want, to retrieve the stuff you put aside. But. I need to do some more prep work first, like drafting. [No sense putting on the cool arm, only to injure his shoulder because it's not braced for the strain.]
[Sans gets that look on his face like he's trying to make sure whoever he's talking to is telling the truth just via staring hard enough at them. It's never worked as well on Papyrus, though.]
I guess you can probably draft wherever. [His phone has that drafting app, after all.] But if you've got stuff to finish up in here, it's not like I mind sitting on the floor.
[Papyrus rubs at the back of his neck, partly as a sheepish motion, partly to continue confirming there's no concerning sensations (besides the cooling heat of the welding). It's not that he's lying, he's likely to need to reinforce something inside his torso to make swapping arms work long-term. But it's partly a dodge to get them back to physical comfort, in hopes Sans can sleep again.]
I always have stuff to finish up! That's the nature of continually making things better. And thus, no reason to hang out on the floor forever. [That said, if his brother doesn't want to try sleeping again yet, and is using the noise of construction as a way to stay awake...] I could at least grab you a chair. And, something to eat.
[There is no food in here anymore, and the helicopter can only do so much to access food from the kitchen - can't open the fridge or most of the drawers.]
[As far as Sans can tell, it seems like Papyrus is telling the truth about not having anything else that needs to be fixed up immediately. After a moment, Sans's wings unfold. He stretches, spine popping.]
I can probably walk to the kitchen. [He means that as a joke, but after a moment realizes that considering what happened Papyrus might actually question his ability to do that, so he stands up. He's still a little wobbly, which he didn't expect, but he's on his feet.] See?
...A good first step! [The wobbling was worrying to see, he'd be lying to say otherwise. But the pause to watch and worry was enough to brainstorm a pun to toss out instead of expressing that worry directly, which just helps to keep things as unshadowed as they can.]
Just let me know if you want a chauffeur instead, as I don't need a license to drive in here. [You know, since he's still got wheels instead of proper skeleton-like feet. Only one of them is walking today.]
If you're gonna give me a ride, I'm not gonna turn it down. [Not exactly true--there's a difference to Sans between trying to get Papyrus to carry him around for a joke or out of laziness and Sans having to be carried around--but he remembers how slowly he'd walked to the workshop to begin with and he can still play it off as simple laziness.] Does that make the kitchen a drive-thru?
I guess so...? [Usually the drive-thru situation is a car driving through a series of windows to grab food, not a person on wheels delivering food... Or, actually, some internet archive images say otherwise. As Papyrus locks his wheels up to better figure out a carrying situation, he shoots Sans a text of a few ladies in old-fashioned outfits and rollerskates carrying trays.] Or a roller diner! I hope you remember to tip.
[Huh, that looks like a weird way to get food. The kind of thing Mettaton would have tried to get Burgerpants to do, probably. Sans digs around in his hoodie pockets and pulls out a handful of assorted batteries.] This count?
[Yes, Sans just keeps batteries in his pockets. It's the same as keeping snacks in his pockets, just for Papyrus specifically.]
I mean, I guess so! [Papyrus doesn't hesitate to grab one of them, but he does hesitate to stick it in his mouth, tilting it over to check things like its expiration date.] You really just keep those in your pockets...? With all the other crap in them...?
[As long as teleporting around doesn't cause any of them to explode and leak foamy acid into Sans's hoodie pockets, he's not going to complain.
Where else would I keep 'em? [Sans is not going to carry a bag, it's pockets or nothing unless they get back their dimensional boxes. These batteries are still good--though that probably has more to do with how long batteries last than anything.]
A bag in your pocket. But it's fine!! It's easy to wipe crumbs off them.
[There's a possibility that the reason he's taken to accepting random battery gifts is because they're a healthy-for-him snack that won't easily get crushed in a dirty pocket.]
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spaghettimonster) wrote2021-07-31 02:32 am
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[He'd been putting off inspecting his neck too long as it was, since he hadn't found any good way of avoiding acknowledging it save hiding it under the helmet. Taking off all his outer casings to look for more bits of rust... Too time-intensive for letting Sans be a floor lump during it, and he's not about to exile his brother somewhere else when weird distressing things just happened. Instead, Papyrus shrugs.]
Sometime later! We'll want, to retrieve the stuff you put aside. But. I need to do some more prep work first, like drafting. [No sense putting on the cool arm, only to injure his shoulder because it's not braced for the strain.]
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I guess you can probably draft wherever. [His phone has that drafting app, after all.] But if you've got stuff to finish up in here, it's not like I mind sitting on the floor.
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I always have stuff to finish up! That's the nature of continually making things better. And thus, no reason to hang out on the floor forever. [That said, if his brother doesn't want to try sleeping again yet, and is using the noise of construction as a way to stay awake...] I could at least grab you a chair. And, something to eat.
[There is no food in here anymore, and the helicopter can only do so much to access food from the kitchen - can't open the fridge or most of the drawers.]
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I can probably walk to the kitchen. [He means that as a joke, but after a moment realizes that considering what happened Papyrus might actually question his ability to do that, so he stands up. He's still a little wobbly, which he didn't expect, but he's on his feet.] See?
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Just let me know if you want a chauffeur instead, as I don't need a license to drive in here. [You know, since he's still got wheels instead of proper skeleton-like feet. Only one of them is walking today.]
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[Yes, Sans just keeps batteries in his pockets. It's the same as keeping snacks in his pockets, just for Papyrus specifically.]
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[As long as teleporting around doesn't cause any of them to explode and leak foamy acid into Sans's hoodie pockets, he's not going to complain.
...Much.]
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[There's a possibility that the reason he's taken to accepting random battery gifts is because they're a healthy-for-him snack that won't easily get crushed in a dirty pocket.]