It's like clockwork, these little snafus. You could practically set your watch by them.
Like Sans, Wade had been fully intent on finding a place away from the ensuing chaos he knows is coming. Like Sans, he knew in his heart of hearts that it probably wouldn't have made any difference-- clusterfucks like this seemed to have a way of finding him regardless of whether or not he was the cause of it-- but he figured there'd probably be a lot less collateral damage if he just stayed out of it. It's not that he was against a little chaos. Far from it, actually. It's just that he didn't feel like getting dicked around by gods who at worst got their jollies by seeing the mortals scramble around like ants under a magnifying glass, and at best didn't know their assholes from a hole in the ground. Or was it the other way around? Frankly, Wade didn't know which explanation was the preferable one.
This city, however, seems hell-bent on getting even the most reluctant of shit-stirrers involved in its little games. Which is why when Wade rounds the corner and sees Sans standing motionless before a cloaked figure grimacing at him like some sort of lovechild of Steven Tyler and Mr. Ed, Wade reacts to this with all the aplomb of one who's Seen All This Before.
"Hey there, Sans. Who's your, uh... friend?"
Doesn't stop his hand from straying to the holster at his belt, though. That thing looks rather unfriendly. And bitey.
city streets
Like Sans, Wade had been fully intent on finding a place away from the ensuing chaos he knows is coming. Like Sans, he knew in his heart of hearts that it probably wouldn't have made any difference-- clusterfucks like this seemed to have a way of finding him regardless of whether or not he was the cause of it-- but he figured there'd probably be a lot less collateral damage if he just stayed out of it. It's not that he was against a little chaos. Far from it, actually. It's just that he didn't feel like getting dicked around by gods who at worst got their jollies by seeing the mortals scramble around like ants under a magnifying glass, and at best didn't know their assholes from a hole in the ground. Or was it the other way around? Frankly, Wade didn't know which explanation was the preferable one.
This city, however, seems hell-bent on getting even the most reluctant of shit-stirrers involved in its little games. Which is why when Wade rounds the corner and sees Sans standing motionless before a cloaked figure grimacing at him like some sort of lovechild of Steven Tyler and Mr. Ed, Wade reacts to this with all the aplomb of one who's Seen All This Before.
"Hey there, Sans. Who's your, uh... friend?"
Doesn't stop his hand from straying to the holster at his belt, though. That thing looks rather unfriendly. And bitey.