Chapter Twenty Three | Stronger Monsters (Part 2 of 3 | His POV)

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It's around four hours later, when the sun's beginning to hide, that he's able to sit down with them to participate in the game they'd spoken about.

Getting into that glare fight with the Calico had led to his partner poking fun at him for another hour, half of it used to ask about how jealous he was, and the other half to discuss whether he was more of an ass, face, or personality type of guy.

He, naturally, chose personality above everything else.

Though he did show appreciation for how cuddly they were.

And that had led on to them proposing a different challenge, where he had to watch at least two hours of Netflicks with them without any cuddling.

He lost quickly, of course.

But it was a defeat he didn't regret.

"Alright, so..." He looks towards them to see they've set everything up for the challenge. Red cups and an open bottle of vodka lay on the nightstand, and they load up an 'uwu' text converter on their phone for future use, plus a pair of dice to determine any possible dares along the way. "Let's begin!" they exclaim, taking out their notebook. A stern aura exudes from them as they flip past the cover and land on the first page, hinting at the difficulty of their question. "Have you," they say, "for the past few months... considered finding any professional help for your situation? I'll give you over half a minute to answer."

The lie he wishes he could respond with barely gets a chance to leave his teeth.

He'd been taught to be earnest since his early teen years, when Asgore took him under his wing.

Those lessons have their consequences now as time runs out, yet they show him mercy for it being the first round by choosing the easiest penalty out of all four: a shot of alcohol.

"I know I said the one who asks the question chooses the punishment, but... You can still tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable, and I'll change it up, okay?" they add, smiling at him. "'Cuz this challenge doesn't mean you need to feel bad -- It's the opposite, actually. We're here to vent!"

"Thanks," Sans replies, recovering from the drink's strong taste. "...I'll keep that in mind." He chuckles. "But it's my turn now, doll." Saying that, he sets the cup aside, flips his own notebook open, and reads, "Do you wanna try fixing things with Brenda? Or would you rather not talk to her anymore after what she did to you? I'm gonna give you a whole minute to answer this one."

"Well..."

The time limit passes on without them uttering another word in response.

"Looks like you lost this round, too," he states, grinning. "So I can choose any kind of punishment?"

"...Yeah," they reply, already suspicious. "You can rotate between all four."

He gives their words some thought and observes them throughout.

"Take off your foundation."

"That doesn't apply as clothing."

"It's either that, or your jacket. Your choice."

"Hey -- No fair! I gave you an easy one."

"Not my fault you're so soft."

Sighing, the human stands up and fetches a packet of facial wipes from their belongings. They slip their glasses off and use two of the wipes to remove the foundation, a feat to accomplish due to it being waterproof. When they're finished, they slide their glasses back on and face him with an uncertain gaze. Their skin is still the same (s/t) he's grown to adore just as much as every other aspect of their outer appearance, though it's a bit bleak, and with several faded acne scars sprinkled across it. What's most noticeable out of everything about them is how their eye bags aren't prominent any longer and how their gaze is more confident.

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