Sans the Skeleton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
justribbing) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
solnet2016-07-18 10:13 pm
justribbing) wrote in solnet2016-07-18 10:13 pm
Nothing says accidental network post like pocket dialing.
[ At first, it's all black, just the loud, raspy sound of cotton against a receiver, until the image is just of dim blue interrupted by bars of fuzzy black as the rasping cuts out. Having apparently accidentally activated his phone while extracting it from his hoodie's pocket, Sans swings himself upright with the sort of hollowed-out and unreceptive expression that belongs to those who just woke up far earlier than intended.
He had pulled his phone from his pocket because it was digging into his hip. Now? He blearily gazes down on it like it offended him down to his bones. Several ways to Sunday. Not that he has much of a right to complain; of those who were snatched away for a few days under inexplicable circumstances, Sans was perhaps the last to return, crashed for a few hours, and once his phone had recharged itself on the ambient free energy transfer from the generator, a few careless movements had activated it.
It's not like anybody woke him. In any case, it's only 10:00 PM or so, and whatever ruined timepiece makes up his "internal clock" is surely totally messed up by now.
He tosses the phone aside. From its now awkward, ceiling-fixed angle, it still picks up his staggering silhouette shuffling away in a corner of the view screen. ]
Heh. Runnin' on empty. You want anything?
[ It's debatable if anyone answers, at least, in his room anyway. ]
He had pulled his phone from his pocket because it was digging into his hip. Now? He blearily gazes down on it like it offended him down to his bones. Several ways to Sunday. Not that he has much of a right to complain; of those who were snatched away for a few days under inexplicable circumstances, Sans was perhaps the last to return, crashed for a few hours, and once his phone had recharged itself on the ambient free energy transfer from the generator, a few careless movements had activated it.
It's not like anybody woke him. In any case, it's only 10:00 PM or so, and whatever ruined timepiece makes up his "internal clock" is surely totally messed up by now.
He tosses the phone aside. From its now awkward, ceiling-fixed angle, it still picks up his staggering silhouette shuffling away in a corner of the view screen. ]
Heh. Runnin' on empty. You want anything?
[ It's debatable if anyone answers, at least, in his room anyway. ]
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