[For all his lazing about, it'd be a lie to say that Sans sleeps easy. Which, of course, he insists that he does, or lets out that general air to imply as such. He gets a message, late, and his answer is - prompt. Or more prompt than maybe you'd expect from him.
Shadow's sounding a little more like he did when they had their little idea to put stars in the sky, and that's more than a tad concerning.]
[He turned to Sans, of all people, and while Sans questions the general wisdom of a thing like that, the temptation to let that slide away don't quite override the sensation he's gonna tentatively label as "curiosity." As opposed to concern.]
[...yeah, fuck this. If he weren't awake before, he certainly is now. There's the high-pitched squeal as he stumbles upright from the fabric of the shitty beanbag chair he's been using as a bed for - months now. Too long.]
[A pause as he digests that, wordlessly. Is that what he's calling upon him for? To play the judge and jury? To gauge his sins, and find him culpable for something or another?
Sans drags his phalanges over the crown of his skull, ossein scratching against itself in a quiet rasp.]
[A failing, he's pretty sure. Shadow - he's not got the clearest picture, he's pretty sure, on the laundry list of failures Sans has to his name, though he's more than a little certain that he's got at least a vague notion.
He laughs, though there's not much to it.]
Cripes, I hope not. I was pretty bad at my job.
[Still is. But he digresses.]
Why? You think you ought'a be judged right about now?
[It's gettin' increasingly clear that he's witnessing some sort of miniature breakdown. He finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed - the racecar bed that hasn't been slept in for months now. Perfectly made. He's wrinkling the coverlet, disrupting the smooth, even distribution of dust.]
Most of us are bad people, Shadow.
[He scans the opposite wall without seeing it, the unlit room cast in uniform dark.]
[That's more than a little interesting. And - don't entirely explain everything, but he's more than accustomed to that himself. He's practically a champion of cryptic one-liners.]
[A moment, and he sets the phone onto the sheets beside him. Frees his hands, lets him fold them together with his forearms draped across his kneecaps as he contemplates the opposite wall.]
That whole remodeling bit we did with Hadriel's ceiling - that was your idea. That weren't any kind of destruction, pal.
Well, no. But how many bad choices d'you think you've made, exactly?
[Not like Shadow's been nothin' but destructive since he got here. In fact, the whole deal with Delight's bar kinda seemed like the exception to the rule.]
[He's gettin' better, he wants to say, at askin' why instead of reducing everything to a reactionary, immediate judgment. Maybe not the judge Shadow is lookin' for, but he never promised him anything.]
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Shadow's sounding a little more like he did when they had their little idea to put stars in the sky, and that's more than a tad concerning.]
Howzat?
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[He turned to Sans, of all people, and while Sans questions the general wisdom of a thing like that, the temptation to let that slide away don't quite override the sensation he's gonna tentatively label as "curiosity." As opposed to concern.]
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What's up? [A moment, then:] ...you okay?
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Sans drags his phalanges over the crown of his skull, ossein scratching against itself in a quiet rasp.]
Yeah, well. Call it a personal failing of mine.
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He laughs, though there's not much to it.]
Cripes, I hope not. I was pretty bad at my job.
[Still is. But he digresses.]
Why? You think you ought'a be judged right about now?
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Okay. What for?
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Most of us are bad people, Shadow.
[He scans the opposite wall without seeing it, the unlit room cast in uniform dark.]
Do you want to destroy anything?
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Didn't answer the question, though.
[Don't think he didn't notice.]
Do you actually want to destroy anything?
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[He digests that silently. Turns it over in his head with his typical nonchalant pace before he can fire back a response.]
Why?
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That whole remodeling bit we did with Hadriel's ceiling - that was your idea. That weren't any kind of destruction, pal.
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[Not like Shadow's been nothin' but destructive since he got here. In fact, the whole deal with Delight's bar kinda seemed like the exception to the rule.]
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Do you regret doing 'em?
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[He's gettin' better, he wants to say, at askin' why instead of reducing everything to a reactionary, immediate judgment. Maybe not the judge Shadow is lookin' for, but he never promised him anything.]
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