Should'a figured, honestly. Not everybody's gotten so sickeningly desensitized to child murder that they can talk about it, easy as you please, simple as discussing the weather. Maybe the guy's lost kids. Or maybe - maybe he's just got enough basic decency to be appropriately horrified.
Probably for the best he didn't bring up Asgore in the slightest. Things're tough enough for him as it is.
Whatever it is that galvanizes him into finally getting up, fumbling with the door until he exits, Sans, uh.
Sans stays right where he is. Slouched over in his chair, skull bowed, regarding the floor without really seeing it.
How's it feel, then, to know that even when someone's askin' to know the details of your own problems and everyone else's, it's still too much for 'em? This is what you get. Step outta your comfort zone, and get burned. End up burning damn near everyone else in the process.
Why even try?
The temptation to get away is almost unbearable, in the tightening of his fists in his pockets, in the minute shifting of his weight, rocking to the balls of his feet in a preparation to stand - or, possibly, to simply slip through space and end up on his couch for the remainder of the day.
There's not a thing he can say that'll make any of it better. So he don't say anything at all. In the next moment the chair is empty, and the room is vacant.
no subject
Should'a figured, honestly. Not everybody's gotten so sickeningly desensitized to child murder that they can talk about it, easy as you please, simple as discussing the weather. Maybe the guy's lost kids. Or maybe - maybe he's just got enough basic decency to be appropriately horrified.
Probably for the best he didn't bring up Asgore in the slightest. Things're tough enough for him as it is.
Whatever it is that galvanizes him into finally getting up, fumbling with the door until he exits, Sans, uh.
Sans stays right where he is. Slouched over in his chair, skull bowed, regarding the floor without really seeing it.
How's it feel, then, to know that even when someone's askin' to know the details of your own problems and everyone else's, it's still too much for 'em? This is what you get. Step outta your comfort zone, and get burned. End up burning damn near everyone else in the process.
Why even try?
The temptation to get away is almost unbearable, in the tightening of his fists in his pockets, in the minute shifting of his weight, rocking to the balls of his feet in a preparation to stand - or, possibly, to simply slip through space and end up on his couch for the remainder of the day.
There's not a thing he can say that'll make any of it better. So he don't say anything at all. In the next moment the chair is empty, and the room is vacant.
He's done enough damage.