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

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

[ 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.]

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[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| ]

[ 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?

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.

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?

Mm. Good point.

[They could always open a window to vent it, and Rin has a few spells that would really do the trick, but it's less fun when you make things so complicated. Oblivious to Sans's growing discomfort (and of course she would be), Rin nods and steps over to the fireplace, crouching down and taking a poker to turn over the wood. Yes, this should do.

Reaching into her bag, she intends to grab for the matches she brought along, but the skeleton's question catches her midway. With a grin, she opens the bigger pocket instead, pulling out the three zip-locked bags she had squirreled away there for him to see:

Graham crackers, giant marshmallows, and thick pieces of unevenly broken chocolate. Rin dangles them from her hand like treasures, beaming at him.]

Only something amazing.

[ Might work. But for all that Sans has spent almost a year in open air he still finds engraved in him the habits of someone who has spent his life (in parts, many times over) underground. He thinks about how little opening a window does. A skeleton might not end up choking on the smoke, but a neighbor will.

You'd think in a place where most of their link to the surface world involves whatever trash washed down into Waterfall's junkyard would mean things like graham crackers don't survive the trip. But Sans's eyelights seem to brighten for a moment in...

Recognition, maybe. Monsters corner the market on comfort foods, and campfire s'mores sounds like it fits the bill. ]

Heeeey. Look at that. Haven't had those in...

[ For a moment, he scratches at his skull with a bony rasp of his phalanges, and then he shrugs, grinning. ]

Eh, long enough.

[Should she spoil the other surprise? Rin sets the food aside on the floor to properly dig out those matches from her bag now. No, she thinks, striking the match once, then twice. His unsuspecting reaction when he takes a bite will be more fun.

On the third strike a flame ignites, dancing in time with her breath. Leaning forward, she touches it to dry piece of kindling in the fireplace.]

For me, this will be only the second instance I've had them.

[Well, second if you don't count the sample she tried earlier in the kitchen, when was testing if all of her ingredients came together properly.]

It's been a while for me too, but I haven't forgotten how to make them! They're so simple.

[A flame slowly seems to be picking up in the fireplace, licking up the bigger log. Rin tosses the now burnt out match in with it and sits back to wipe sooty fingers off on her skirt.]

Heh heh heh. Food that takes about as much time to prepare as it does to eat's my kinda cuisine.

[ Which is more a statement for how little effort he wants to invest in meals, typically, with a few rare exceptions -- like the occasional foray into baking, for instance. And it's not entirely accurate either -- Sans has enjoyed the fruits of other cooks' labors. Sanji, Rin, Wade, people with a helluva lotta talent for the task and seemed to get the kinda kick outta doing it that escapes Sans.

But anyway, there's a fire going, and even if a skeleton monster remains unbothered by the cold outside, he can still appreciate the cheery warmth baking off the flames voraciously spreading over the log.

There are two chairs, and Sans takes one of them with a noise that might be like a sigh, if he had lungs. ]

So, only the second time, huh? Jeez, you magic-using humans sure could use s'more fun in your daily routine.

[She wags a finger at him as she stands, walking over to claim the second of those chairs.]

It has to do with culture more than those two things.

[Or awful puns that she definitely does not enjoy. And if she did, certainly she wouldn't admit even privately that was one of his better ones. Perish the thought! She's only smiling to make Sans feel better about having such a crappy sense of humor.]

We have our own treats in Japan, so I hadn't so much as heard of s'mores until middle school, when my class entertained a perfectly normal American foreign exchange student.

[She pulls the second chair closer to the fire, then seems to think twice before sitting. They'll need something to set the foodstuffs on, right? Make them nice and easy to reach. There's a big comfy armchair which was already here that could do, but Rin had curiously noted earlier that Sans left it be. It makes her feel like she'd be breaking a rule to touch it.

Snapping her fingers, Rin remembers the fire pit and goes back to fetch it, not once asking for Sans's help. Not that it would be worthless (the lazybones had already surprised her by offering before), but because she came out here tonight wanting to cheer him up. It might last only a little while, but she can be the one to put the work in for that. ]

Who taught you how to make them in Snowdin?

[ Perfectly normal, huh? Guess Sans can't fault her the distinction -- ain't a whole lot that's normal about Rin, but she's gotta hell of a game face.

The armchair was ignored, but not deliberately. Its presence pricks at something, like being reminded a little of something that happened a very, very long time ago, but as Sans doesn't care enough to pursue the thought, it goes unexplored.

But... once, he might have asked someone sitting in a chair like that to tell him a story.

Instead, what Sans remembers is an expanse of subterranean snow and frosted trees glowing in the half-light, the warm crackle of fire, his then much smaller brother nodding off sleepily against his side. ]

One of the first people I met. Real warm guy in a cold place. Never even heard of 'em until he put one of those down in front of my bro.

[ The firelight turns his bones orange. ]

Should'a seen the way Papyrus lit up. Heh heh, kids are only that young once, right? It was pretty cool.

[ And belatedly, Sans seems to notice she's hauling the fire pit over. ]

Whatcha doin' with that?

[It sounds like a good memory; the kind that feels worn in the shape of your hand when you take it off the shelf, and smells like home. Sans is so caught up in it he barely notices what she's doing, and the part of her that isn't jealous finds it incredibly sweet.

She bets all of his favorite memories are ones like that, ones cherished and made about his precious little brother. Rin doesn't discourage it. She'll offer her distractions, but to try to 100% keep him from thinking of those, of Papyrus, would be a pitiful band-aid she thinks.

If you took that away from Sans, she's not sure how much he'd have left to be happy about.]

If we take off the liiid...

[One second, Sans. Clang! She sets the heavy fire pit down between their two chairs, and does just that, discarding the dome to the floor. There seems to be a removable tray inside marbled by ventilation holes.]

There we are. We can use it to set the marshmallows and other stuff on.

[Like a side table! Rin holds her hand out expectantly. Hand them over to her, huh? She'd left the three big bags (one for each ingredient) by the foot of his chair.]

The suspense is killin' me.

[ Yes, he certainly sounds it. Has the reaction time of the half-dead, too, as he stares for a long moment at Rin's expectantly outstretched hand and finally leans down for one of the bags. What happens next continues only for as long as Rin's patience does.

It starts with a shrug, like most of the things he does (or literally doesn't do).

But it involves taking out a graham cracker (largely unbroken), a chunk of chocolate bar, and a marshmallow, and stacking these on her palm.

Seriously, he will keep stacking these layers until she stops him.

Or until he reaches thirty items. Y'know. Whichever comes first. Thirty is just a ridiculous number, okay? ]

[Sans, please. Do you think you're chilling with Ghandi, or Rin Tohsaka?

Her initial puzzled expression turns into one of disbelief, and by the second graham cracker, vivid annoyance. Is he seriously—]

[One chunk of chocolate, and then the force of her shout topples the entire tower over.]

Why would you take them out one at a time when they were already in bags?!?

[ALL YOU HAD TO WAS SET THEM DOWN, IT WAS A MOVE THAT SHOULD HAVE TAKEN 2.4 SECONDS WITH THE ADJUSTED STUPID ANNOYING NUMBSKULL SLACKER MEASURE. SANS, WHY, THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS.]

Guess you should'a said so.

[ Sans offers, unhelpfully, with the customary unconcerned roll of a shoulder. His nonchalance probably only serves to make him even more insufferable, but this little conversational detour's a little like re-establishing normalcy, for him. ]

But sure, ok.

[ He's not picking up the ones that fell on the floor. He's going so far as to bring up the bags because he actually wants to enjoy some of their contents -- just don't leave the bags with him, or he might end up enjoying said contents one by one.

Like a goblin, or something. ]

Here, knock yourself out.

[Fiend. Rin bets he's the type who would bite into a chocolate bar the way it is instead of breaking the sectioned pieces off to eat like a civilized monster too. She stomps back around the proper side of her chair, stopping only to scoop the pieces that fell to the floor.

She'll eat those ones herself, even if the thought kind of makes her scrunch up her nose. But Sanji would be appalled if she didn't, and it's only thanks to him she could bring these tonight.

Once seated, Rin reflexively swats at Sans's hand, as if expecting him to pull some other stunt.]

No taste-testing before we start! Your first bite has to be a proper s'more toasted over the flames, got it?

[Of course that might encourage him to do the opposite, but hey. He told her to say so. 8|

Sneaking a wary glance at him, she reaches for her bag again, this time for the last items: two marshmallow forks, one which she hands over to him.]

[ She'd--be right. Sans, too lazy to break off food into proper bite-sized pieces, would rather cut out the process entirely and get straight to the part where he isn't hungry anymore. Easy, simple, no-nonsense.

He doesn't have a reason to bother with baking pies or quiches anymore, so why bother? ]

Got it, boss.

[ He holds up both hands in the universal gesture of MERCY. Sans will SPARE you further shenanigans, Rin, because a tsundere's only fun to poke up to a certain point, and he likes his bones being where they are. After one beat of surprised silence, Sans reaches for the marshmallow fork, giving it a once-over. ]

...They have forks for this? Fancy. Guess it beats stickin' to sticks.

[ He gets the strangest feeling there could have been a better joke in there, but when he tries to grasp for the idea, it slips away, forgotten. He shrugs. ]

Y'know... I gotta ask. Why do this with me?

[Rin's scrutinizing looks stays in place until he's accepted the fork from her hands... Whereupon she pushes back in her seat considerably cheerier. Eager, even? She's humming as she stabs a marshmallow on her fork, then a second. If you're going to break your diet, might as well go all out, right?

She doesn't much care if he wants to snack on the treats without probably sandwiching them after the first one; whatever she enjoys best. It was hard work, though, learning how to make monster food.

Partway in she had wanted to give up and just gives Sans what was readily available in the kitchen. What's wrong with human food? He'd proven he could eat it before! But in the end, Rin stuck it through. The whole point had been to do something nice for him, not her.

Extending the marshmallow fork over the flames, she responds plainly, without pause.]

Who else would?

[Almost everyone she can think of in their mutual friend pool is gone.

And a few more still she can't remember to think of at all.]

[ Following Rin's lead means Sans isn't far behind in spearing a pair of marshmallows and extending the fork over the fire. Said fire makes his bones seem to glow orange and yellow where its light flickers over them, softens the dark hollows of his face. Feels warm. Only a slight novelty to a skeleton who is perpetually cold. ]

Seriously? C'mon. Girl like you? Probably has lots of friends.

[ He isn't teasing, either. For some reason, he seems to recall she did have friends. That she was certainly more social than he's been, and he generally liked getting along with folks.

Who else would? She said.

He finds himself... troubled, a little, to be made so keenly aware of how hollow the treehouse is, how paperthin its walls feel. The avoided armchair draws his gaze.

I've seen that before, Sans starts to think, when his marshmallows catch fire. ]

[She used to be so good at setting up barriers. As long as she kept people on the other side of that glass, she could make them see what she wanted them to see. When you have a school full of admirers and dozens of happy acquaintances, for instance, no one in their right mind would call her friendless.

It's an illusion she's proud of; if it fooled Sans without her trying, all the better she thinks.

If she'd been thinking properly, she would have taken greater care to maintain those barriers when she came to this place.]

Mm. [She lies pleasantly. No need to make him think about it.] You got me there.

[A roommate, contracted partner, frequent ally in this castle, and a guy she owes a lot of favors to. That's probably close enough.]

They're not the sort I felt inclined hang out with tonight. I wanted to do something nice with you.

Flattery's gonna get you nowhere. I think my tailbone's taken root in this chair. Seriously, you're gonna need a crowbar to get me outta here.

[ She's probably doing this because of Papyrus. That's kind, but, uh. He's okay.

And Sans can't remember what it was that brought them together in the first place. That's a burr that sticks in his thoughts, but recedes when his attention strays back to his marshmallows.

They burn, because he doesn't have breath to blow them out, and doesn't particularly see a point in putting out fires. ]

Oops.

[ Okay, so... maybe he could... Just. Wave his marshmallow fork a little, try to put it out. It doesn't exactly work. ]

Couldja blow that out for me?

[A globule of marshmallow goo dribbles on the floor as Rin pulls back her own marshmallows, reaching for Sans's stick to do as requested.]

You really stink at this.

[But she does as he asks without much other fuss. Infused with traces of wind magical energy, two quick breaths puts the flame out nicely.

With that accomplished, she doesn't relinquish the marshmallow back to him either. Nope. Instead her mouth shoots open wide, stealing the burnt marshmallow right off the tip of the stick in one bite. Ha!]

[ Hard to say if Sans is startled, but his eye lights do seem to wink out like he's blinked in surprise, a low chuckle rolling out of him. He sounds impressed by her quick act of opportunism, didn't expect that from Rin, that was more--

Whose... style..? ]

Sneaky. [ He snorts in amusement that feels suddenly forced and hollow, reaching for another marshmallow. ] Anyway, looks like you haven't noticed, but I'm a professional stinker.

[ Hey, all things considered, this is pretty cozy. Some junk food, some cheap laughs, a good friend by his side. He keeps his own phalanges out of harm's way as he spears a new marshmallow, out of habit, even if he ain't sitting pretty on one HP. ]

Better keep an eye socket out on you and your sticky fingers, pal.

Hot, hot, hot...!

[Rin fans her mouth through Sans's little speech, kicking her feet in a way that's probably comical. That's what she gets for not giving it a second or two to cool; she'd remembered the process being much faster from her middle school years. Of course she wasn't too far off, and the heat quickly begins to subside as she chews, and the look on her face turns satisfied. Ah, that was good. Not as good as it could have been, of course.]

Uh-huh. I'd like my next one to be just as crispy while you're at it, thank you.

[Propping her marshmallow spear up between her feet so she can use both hands, Rin reaches for a graham cracker, and then a chunk of chocolate to slap over it. If they don't use it all, she'll have to remember to bring some to that person later.

That... Who she's thinking of escapes her at the moment, but they really love chocolate, don't they? Maybe she's thinking of Sakura; a gossamer memory from a distant past. Ah. She should probably not mind it then...]

[ They're distracted, but exchanging smiles, indulging in these comical little acts of... friendship? Or self-comfort. In any case, she can think about whoever she wants, hell, even the sister who can't be here. Why not? Sans can't stop thinking about his brother, and what he might do to convince Ozuma to stop bringing him into this goddamn war.

His grin doesn't sour, regardless of the bitter taste. ]

Yeah? No promises, boss. But knowin' me, I'm bound to burn a few more before we're through.

[ Chuckling again as he regards the s'more assembly out of the corner of his eye socket, Sans lowers his marshmallow stick over the flames, rubbing the toe of one slipper against the approximate region of his other ankle, like he's scratching some non-existent itch. ]

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