ic inbox

[skelebro]

heya. leave a message. i'll get back to you.

or maybe not, actually.

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[text, 4/3]

[mttbrandlegs]

[Sans is treated to a rushed, one handed text that's apparently from Mettaton, but really doesn't sound like him at all.]

help me

blookys hurt can you heal/

my magic is not enough

[text]

[skelebro]

[What the hell is -

The message is torn through with static, the network still nowhere near as stable as it should be. Takes him a second to decipher it in full, and at that point, he shouldn't be wastin' time wondering why the hell Mettaton is writing -

Oh.

Shit.

His response is swift, even if the network takes a few precious minutes to hack it through.]

where are you

[mttbrandlegs]

[Once Mettaton receives Sans' response and is able to suss it out, he sends a description of his surroundings, praying that somehow it'll be enough. About half a minute later, he adds:]

hurry if you can please

[skelebro]

[Okay. Yeah. He's probably been there. Hopefully he won't end up in a fucking wall in the process.]

be right there.
nothing else around to eat ya, right?

[mttbrandlegs]

i don't know

[Better to be honest.]

[skelebro]

[Great. No point in bothering either way, right? Worst case scenario, he takes a shortcut a mite quicker with a few more passengers than he would ordinarily.]

omw