[video] (It's long. Sorry.)

[justribbing]

[ A handheld camera -- quite likely Wade’s smartphone -- ‘pans’ over the gleaming exterior of a convertible. How a car managed to get here is anyone’s guess, but anyone guessing a being like Ozuma may or may not have been involved would probably be close. With its bright red paint shining in the cold winter unlight, the sight of a convertible with its top down might be alien, surreal, or even nostalgic. ]

[ Either way, whoever’s holding the phone seems to understand that such a wondrous sight deserves a proper tribute-- namely, draping yourself seductively on the hood and taking a goofy pin-up video. Which apparently is exactly what Wade has decided to do. From his position on the hood, the viewers can spot someone tucked across the back seats of the car, an almost shapeless mass of voluminous galaxy-print hoodie, t-shirt (this one is blank, save for the faded and occasional condiment stain), track shorts and shabby once-pink slippers. ]

[ Sans appears to be reclining here, sprinkling ash from the end of a cigarette all over himself and the back seat. As he lifts his skull at Wade’s arrival, he quirks a supraorbital ridge at the phone in his hand but his grin doesn’t change. Somehow, being a skeleton with no respiratory system to speak of doesn’t stop him from seemingly exhaling a stream of smoke into the air.

Smoking in the back seat of a new car? Well, it ain’t like its intended recipient is ever gonna enjoy it. ]

sup, you tryin’ out for america’s funniest home videos?

Heh. More like Ripley’s Believe It or Not. You probably can’t tell from where you’re sittin’ but I’m makin’ the most righteous duck-face right now. Oh, yeah-- Cryptkeeper, eat yer heart out. What’s with the sudden wheels, bee-tee-dubs? You suddenly win the lottery or kill a hooker or somethin’?

or somethin’. ...you like it? [ Sans eases upright like it’s the hardest thing he’s had to do all day, but pats the seat with one skeletal hand as he tucks the filter of the cigarette against his grin again. How he does that is a mystery. And given the way he always smells like, uh, greasy burgers or hot dogs and usually ketchup, he ain’t a habitual smoker, either. ] took every last G i had. it’s for Papyrus.

Aww… no kiddin’? [Wade turns away from the phone screen to look at Sans directly. He recognizes that smile-- the smile of someone who would move mountains for his beloved family member. It’s pretty cute, the lengths Sans is willing to go for his brother. ] Quite the expensive Christmas present. I’m guessin’ he’s a huge car buff then, huh? Want me to videotape his reaction when he sees this thing? Could make for some entertaining cinema. I’m imaginin’ something like the Nintendo 64 kid. [A chuckle.]

yeah, ‘bout that… [ Rasping a hand over the crown of his skull, Sans swings his eye lights over the car itself. ] couldn’t wait ‘til christmas, so i went lookin’ for him.

but, hey-- [ The skeleton hunches up his shoulders in a shrug, grinning at Wade. Casually, he passes that partially-consumed cigarette to Wade, like it’s nothing, or normal, or something. ] --turns out there’s no place like home for the holidays. [ That’s when Sans glances again at the phone. That’s, uh, that’s not the setting for taking pictures. He might actually have to do something about that. ]

[Wade’s not a smoker either, barring a brief stint in his teenage years when he wanted to be more like James Dean. Still, when your best bro casually offers you a cigarette, you don’t really say no to that. It’s not like he could get cancer again, anyway. Wade’s in the midst of plucking the cigarette from Sans’s phalanges when the bombshell he’s dropped so nonchalantly registers in his brain. He stops, cigarette held expertly between two fingers as if he’d been smoking for thirty years rather than thirty days, and looks over the windshield at his companion.]

Dude… [He stops; runs a hand over his head and tries again.] I mean-- shit, man. You okay? [Wade lowers the phone, only just now realizing that the recording light is blinking, and hastily turns it off.]

Comments

[action] to Wade

[justribbing]

[ And at that, Sans can only... shrug. There's no 'eh' or wasted breath that Sans doesn't have.

Just... a shrug. ]

S'not like I ain't been through this song and dance before.

...It's ok.

[ No, it isn't. ]

My bro? He ain't exactly built for war.

[ Okay, that's a lot more honest. ]

[ishotyouuu]

[Oh, Sans. Wade doesn't even have to think back to that time he spent inside his buddy's skull to know what he's doing. Deflection. Downplaying your true feelings. It's, unfortunately, a trait they both share in equal amounts.]

Meanin' no offense to your brother, but I kinda pegged him for a softie right off the bat. I mean, he fought like a pro, but I always thought of him as like the skeletal equivalent of a Golden Retriever. Hell, when he accidentally broke my arm during one of our training sessions, I don't know who felt more guilty about it-- him for actually doin' it, or me for making him feel bad about doin' it.

[Wade slips his phone into one of his pouches; climbs over the windshield to reach the back seats.]

Here. Shove over, dude.

[justribbing]

[ Sans doesn't answer, but he does move, tucking bony heels in as he shifts over. For a lack of anything better to do, he passes his phalanges over the wrinkled folds of shirt, increasingly conscious of the faded stains. Wade won't comment on it, never does. Sans isn't too sure what he thinks of the guy's tolerance of his proclivity for making a mess, whether that's good or bad. ]

Yeah, uh. Don't. [ Talking about his brother like that -- hey, it's nice, it's real nice knowing that Wade has the same kinda fond pride in Papyrus that Sans feels about his brother. Means a lot.

But it sounds a lot like the kinda talk that happens at monster funerals. Rad as heck as they might be, Sans doesn't want to think about this anymore. His eye lights might have flickered, briefly, to Wade's arms, when he thinks about him engaging in any combat training with his brother.

His shoulders shrug as he sinks back against the seat, plops a dingy slipper against the back of the seat in front of him. ]

I'm okay. And it ain't like my bro's the only one gone. So.

[ So. He reaches into his hoodie.

Done with that cigarette, Wade? Because Sans is just going to tap another out of the pack that had been brand new up until he lit the one in Wade's hand up. Because--uh. Why not? Wade can't die, and there's a punchline hidden in the sight of a smoking skeleton. It's exactly the kinda thing his brother would have railed against, and Sans thinks he's going to miss that.

He just doesn't feel much of anything, like a balloon someone let go.

Monsters have different ideas about that image. See, a balloon drifting off eventually finds the ceiling of the Underground. Finds something to bang up against, bursts, and eventually crashes back to rock bottom. Maybe this will roll up on him when he doesn't expect it. Right now? He's okay with drifting. ]

[ishotyouuu]

[Wade knows he's bad at comforting. It's hard to offer someone a shoulder to lean on when you've always been standing on rocky foundation yourself. Grief, for all its opportunities to inspire empathy in others, is a very selfish emotion. Words can help to show someone that others care for them, but ultimately, the loss of a loved one is something that has to be dealt with individually; alone.

Wade sinks back against the leather seats of the sports car and takes a drag, feeling the strange yet all-too-familiar tang of nicotine fill his mouth. It won't do anything for him, of course-- nothing short of an abundance of powerful narcotics will even make a dent in his tolerance, but there's still something Pavlovian about smoking a cigarette. Placebo effect. He remembers the rush he felt when he'd begun smoking for the first time.

Still holding the cigarette between two fingers, Wade draws it out of his mouth and exhales softly, allowing the smoke to escape his mouth in a thick, lazy stream. A softly sardonic laugh escapes him.]

Funny. They always said these things would kill me.

[justribbing]

[ How a skeleton's bony phalanges manage to get a lighter to work is anyone's guess, too. ]

Hey, let's be fair-- [ Don't ask how a monster with no respiratory system still manages to exhale curling streamers of smoke from between his teeth, or how it doesn't just leak out from everywhere -- truth is, the hoodie's locked most of it in, which is why most of it's all zipped up, but the rest?

Ha ha.

In this case, 'magic' is still 100% accurate. ]

--who'da seen your condition comin'?

[ None of this is like the other times. He feels... not much. Maybe even a little bit of relief. Like plans getting canceled last minute. Sure, maybe he didn't exactly plan on fulfilling some other obligation, but there's nothing quite like getting let off the hook.

See? Don't even have to wonder when the Queen's gonna let the other brother drop, he's already been removed from the equation.

He's a real piece of work. ]

But that's just it, ain't it? None of this is gonna kill you.

[ishotyouuu]

[Ouch. Wade knows that Sans's remark isn't anything but a casual observation, but it still stings all the same. His technical immortality is something he's always being reminded of every day of his life, and whether he's aware of this or not, Sans's offhanded comment makes it sound like an accusation. Wade doesn't let it get his dander up the way his younger, much less experienced self would have. He merely takes another drag, the smoke drifting out of his mouth as he talks.]

Lucky me, huh? Now instead of worryin' about whether or not I'm gonna die, I got enough room in the headspace to worry about other things.

[And he shouldn't have to make it any more obvious that one of those other things happens to be sitting right across from him.]

[justribbing]

[ It's... easy.

Easy to just tilt himself sideways, slow as snowfall, until he finds something warmer than a cold car seat to lean his skull against. Someone, he tells himself, who can't get taken from him the way everyone else important to him has.

Wade can't replace Papyrus. Their, uh. Their relationship ain't anything like that, just for starters.

But he's here and as far as the Queen's tactics go, more or less untouchable. One last constant in an ever-changing shitshow that won't add up. Maybe it won't be enough for the long haul -- Sans never is, after all -- but for now?

This is enough now. He exhales another ribbon of smoke, nests a tip of one phalanx behind the butt trapped between thumb and phalanx and flicks it away. One spiralling arc of ember and smoke through the snow. ]

Well, knock this one off your list, pal. Queen's played too hard, now she's outta ways to stick it to this bag of bones. Guess that means I've won, heh heh.

[ishotyouuu]

[And it's easy for Wade too, to suddenly drape his arm around Sans's bony shoulders and let him find a comfortable place to rest his head-- so easy that it takes him a few seconds to realize he's done it almost instinctively, as if shielding Sans from some nebulous, intangible cold that affects the soul more than the body.

A shield. Someone had called him that once-- had, in fact, called him the less appealing term of "meatshield" back in his home world. At the time, Wade had been offended, and the dismissive tone had strongly implied that he was meant to take offense. It had taken a few years and a long stint in Haven for him to realize that being a shield wasn't really so bad. Something strong that could be used to protect vital parts of a person. Something that could take the hit for you without causing lasting damage. Something that you could always count on.

Being a shield didn't seem like such a bad thing, in retrospect. There were worse things to be, and Wade had been some of them in his rather long life. Unconsciously, he tugs Sans closer, still puffing away at his cigarette. As predicted, the nicotine does nothing for him, but regardless he feels strangely calm.]

Heh. Don'cha know anything about me, bro? I never do what I'm told. Just gonna keep worryin' about you just to spite ya now. Whaddya think of that?

[This sucks. I'm sorry. I know exactly how it feels.]

[justribbing]

I think you need a better hobby.

[ The banter's gonna be no good today, but he thinks Wade's not gonna mind too much; his arm feels heavy over him, but that's okay. It pins him in place, keeps him from feeling like he's gonna dry up and drift off at the first stiff wind. Keeps him here, like the coins he used to keep in his pockets or the stonework he'd touch just to feel the grit against his phalanges whenever he finds himself a little too cast adrift.

He rests, not thinking about much, watching the grey sky start to darken.

His phone doesn't ring. It's quiet.

Sans doesn't really know what time it is when he finally needs to move, to escape the press of thoughts trying to topple down over his skull again. Damn shame, but the reprieve was nice. He rasps a hand over his face, huffing a chuckle. Man, what the hell's he doin'? ]

Ok. Heh heh. If I get any more comfortable, they're gonna have a couple'a snowmen to chip outta the back of this car.

action;

[heritrix]

[Oh.

There's no other response for that; just that faint murmur in her own head as her fingers close the network and slide her phone away. Nothing about the way the news of Papyrus's departure was delivered isn't awkward, and replying would just make it a bigger mess.

Sure, that seems par the course for Sans's life, but you learn to read a room.

But where Rin has no comforting words to offer, she also has no intention of leaving Sans alone. She waits until nightfall, intending to visit him at his room, but... No. Thoughts of who else lives on that floor brings up things she'd rather not think about right now, lest she get angry. After visiting the kitchen, on a hunch she decides to check the rooftop garden instead, by the telescope.]

Spying anything interesting out there tonight?

[It's cloudy, as it has been ever since the snow rolled in, but there are patches of night sky that are breathtakingly clear to Rin when she looks up, a handful of faded stars scattered against the inky black. They remind her of lanterns washed far away by a river, passing from island to island and cloud to cloud.]

action;

[justribbing]

[ It's hardly ideal stargazing weather if the intent is to map out all those points of light shining like cold diamonds scattered across a dark blanket, but Sans is out here to enjoy the view. There's a break in the clouds that looks a little like someone smashed a crack through the ground of Snowdin to expose some glittering deposit hidden inside the mountain.

A geode in the sky, or something.

Sans grins up at it, doesn't bother to break off his stare when words can acknowledge Rin's arrival without expending the effort to move. ]

Sure. Beautiful night, huh?

[ And that's just the way of it. The world moves on, but here they all are, standing still. The Queen's holding this crumbling castle together with the glue of frozen time, waging her war for... what? Power? Immortality?

Hell if he knows. He's just out here for the view. ]

...Kinda cold up here for you humans, though. But then, guess that's why somebody built a house up there.

[ Sans looks painted pale blue by the way diffuse starlight glows off the snow, but it's clear he's raised a hand to point one phalanx at the tree house.

The way he says it, it's like he's only just noticed the thing now. Or that there's a purpose other than the explicit one -- the one where a pair of kids enjoyed a small taste of a Home that could have been theirs.

Sans can't speculate about what could have been. He turns around halfway, winking an eye socket at her. ]

You came up here to talk. Wanna go somewhere warmer?

[heritrix]

[When Sans turns, he might notice Rin is carrying something strange in both hands. Rocking on her heels, a brown bag stuffed full sways at her hip as she adjusts her grip on the fire pit, palms dark and dusty.]

I like your thinking. [There's something approaching fondness on her face as she looks upon the treehouse. She's not sure why; it's not like she ever grew up around them. They're more popular in places like Europe and America, than in Japan.] At any rate, it'll be more comfortable than squatting down in the snow.

[Because, despite it being the cusp of winter, Rin Tohsaka is still wearing a mini-skirt. Because of course she is.]

[justribbing]

[ Sans doesn't even possess the capacity to have an endothermic reaction, and even he figures she must be chilled to the bone. He isn't so sure about the fire pit, but... eh, if they end up burning the treehouse down, he doesn't think anybody's gonna miss it.

...Hell of a thought to have. Well, anyway. ]

Just leave that there, I'll get it.

[ A hand flicks at the air, bones gleaming blue in the pale light. ]

Go on up, I'll be right behind ya.

[heritrix]

[Strangely, she doesn't look like she minds the chill as much as she should, but the answer to why is a well-kept trade secret.

...That's right. It was winter in Fuyuki too, the last time she saw it.

The blue glow of the bones reflecting in her eyes, Rin nods agreeably and sets the fire pit down. That's right, Sans can manipulate things. Make them float. He did that when they first met, when he ░▒░▒ht ░▒░▒░. When he ░▒░▒░▒... What was it again? Righting herself, Rin glances to the side, looking confused for a moment before shrugging it off, a light dusting of snow tossed gently from her shoulders.

It's been a long time since they met, come to think of it, but she remembers she saw it.]

If you're offering, but no take backs~. [She folds her hands behind her back, sliding away from him and towards the treehouse.] It was hard work getting it all the way from the kitchen to up here.

[She's happy that he offers, however. It's uncharacteristically nice of him on a day when she knows... Well, she can't really know how he feels (having shared a soul with him or not), only guess. The person he loves most is gone, and the only word she can guess to describe that feeling is awful. So yes, it's nice of him to extend that, all things considered.

Doesn't mean she won't chide him if he ditches it partway through. 8| ]

[justribbing]

[ Awful? Nah. Nothing so sharp and lingering.

This is more of a hollowed out and dry sense of, uh, having not much left to give. It's a little liberating, and he welcomes the cold embrace of empathy as a more familiar sentiment than the alternative.

The Queen can't really hurt him that badly anymore. Kinda gives him an edge in this war game of theirs, doesn't it?

That was an interesting look on her face. Sans considers chasing that thought, but, nah. He'll have his 'hands' full enough with hauling this thing up the treehouse, ducking around behind said tree before he nudges open the door with a slippered foot, suddenly behind her.

Something about the treehouse's interior makes him whistle lowly. ]

Heh. Some wicked deja vu just now. How 'bout we deja don't and get this fire started?

[heritrix]

That was quick. [Said with the air of someone who suspects a trick, even if she doesn't call him on it outright. but really, how else would someone of Sans's constitution (and laziness) get behind her so quickly?

Walking into the room, trying to pick the best spot, she stops suddenly, hands on her hips.]

Oh. There was a fireplace here already? [She spots it there ahead of them, soot darkening the alcove, and sighs.] If I'd known that, I wouldn't have bothered... Oh well.

Which do you think is more fun? [She walks about the little cottage, examining the furniture, and pointing to places here and there where the fire pit can be set down.] We could set the fire pit anywhere; sit where we could look out a window, maybe. It would be more authentic to what I'd originally planned, but there's something charming about using a fireplace in a house like this one.

[justribbing]

Yeah, uh. Guess there is?

[ There's a part of him, the same that still experiences that bone-chilling sense of deja-vu that thinks a fireplace belongs there while that window doesn't. He tells himself it's because it looks so much like a certain royal Fluffybuns's digs.

(And like Toriel's.) But he's only ever been there in a dream.

--Wasn't he? ]

Dunno if 'fun' really has much to do with it. Better use that fireplace, though. Pits like this one's gonna have you coughing in no time.

[ The fireplace, at least, has a chimney. This means the fire pit is left by the door, deposited there a little roughly, as Sans leaves the honors of fire-building to Rin in favor of finding another chair.

He finds them. Two chairs. Something at the back of his eye sockets itches. ]

So what's in the bag, pal?

[freedom_engineer]

[It's not until Sans comes back to his room that Colin makes himself known. He's camping outside of Sans' door, staring off into space. Actually just doing some reading and planning in his eye, but details.]

[And should Sans take a shortcut back into his room instead of taking the long way? Well, Colin will just knock at that door when space folds in that recognizable way.]

[justribbing]

[ You bet your ass he took a shortcut. But, uh, that knock...

Sans gives some serious, honest-to-goodness consideration to the idea of just pretending he isn't home. Nobody would know for sure, right?

On the other hand, he doesn't have too many people left who'd come to call, maybe Wade had something else to say, maybe Rin needs something, maybe--

Maybe, he discovers upon opening the door, it's just: ]

Colin? [ Huh. Oh, right. He's gotta pretty good idea what this is about. ] Hey, sup?

[freedom_engineer]

Dropping in to keep you company. Like you need to ask.

[He offers a sad smile.]

What can I do for you, Sans? What do you need me to do?

[justribbing]

Heh.

[ Guy's worried about him. That's hilarious. Yeah, considering the way he was that time they first became pals? He doesn't really blame him. Feels like a lifetime ago, but since he can't recall just what kept him going back then, he assumes it was his friendship.

Sounds a bit sentimental for him, to be honest.

Sans steps aside, shuffling on dingy slippers. His room is, predictably, a mess. ]

C'mon in. And, uh, don't worry 'bout me. I'm fine. You wanna drink? Got somethin' around here somewhere.

[freedom_engineer]

I'm all right, I've got a water bottle I've been nursing while waiting for you.

[Colin steps into Sans' room without hesitation. He's familiar enough with this place, the only reason he didn't let himself in is because he values Sans' friendship enough to respect his privacy.]

[He reaches out to pat Sans' shoulder as he goes past him.]

[He won't call Sans out on lying, not yet anyway. He knows people have different coping mechanisms. And Sans' are a lot more complex than most, given everything he's been through.]

Figure I can keep you company, we can talk dimensional traversal and other interesting topics along those lines if you like.

[justribbing]

[ For certain definitions of A State of Sans, this is, uh. About as 'fine' as he gets when there's another statue of Papyrus gathering dust in the Memorial Gallery. It's pretty darn good, actually. No days-long benders. No unmoving lump beneath the creasy jumble of unwashed blankets that may or may not be Sans. No long walks on narrow bridges calculating the chances he might disintegrate to dust before he actually hits the surface of the water, far below.

Pretty good, all things considered.

The Queen went too hard, and now she can't win, far as he's concerned. Because really. What can she take from him now? His life? ]

Yeah? [ There's no joke at the ready, because that seems kinda pointless. ] Ain't exactly in the mood to plan the next interdimensional vaycay, but tell ya what.

[ He shuffles over to his desk, the sturdy worktable currently littered with books, note paper, and dirty dishes. ]

Might'a had an idea or two bangin' around in my skull about addressing our, uh, home invasion problem with shadows.

[ Since it's been a problem for as long as he can remember, shadows paying them visits inside the safe zone. ]

But you're probably miles ahead on that. You on security already?

[freedom_engineer]

Fuck Vacay. I'm talking about tracking down your brother. YOUR brother. Not one of the infinitesimal multiversal ones out there that just happen to be a mirror of the same wonderful guy.

And before you tell me to stop and quit offering things I can't do, I want you to remember who you're talking to. I've already made one promise to find someone's wife from beyond the grave which I will be quite able to deliver on. Impossible isn't a word in my vocabulary.

[Colin gives Sans a momentary hard look, but then he softens.]

But at the moment, it's a difficulty. I will confess that I cannot deliver right this instant. So, if you would rather discuss security, let's talk light shows, shall we?

[justribbing]

[ He doesn't talk about how his brother - the one from his timeline - will probably be waiting for him on the Surface of a mountain he's been living under his whole life. That Sans doesn't expect to ever make it there, because he's both too tired and the Queen seems unwilling to let him off the hook even half as easily as his brother.

That it's both better and worse here without him.

It's a nice thought, and Sans can at least acknowledge what it is Colin's trying to do. It's just... too late.

He also doesn't sigh at Colin's hard look. When it softens, he grins at him, no harm done. ]

Yeah. So, you wanna catch me up on what you've got?