Mafiatale - An Eye For An Eye (SansxFrisk)

Chapter 3:

Frisk didn't speak or stand up.

Instead she stared at the stage and waited for the lights to go off again, letting her mind continue with its thoughts.

"Do you not need to used the ladies room?" The man asked, snapping her from her daze.

Turning to him, Frisk shook her head and smiled before answering, "No, actually. I'm quite alright. Not an appropriate thing to ask though."

Without a smile or even a small change of his stone face, he asked, "Not hungry either? I would expect you to need something after an hour and a half."

Once again Frisk shook her head, and she thought it pathetic that he was trying to get her alone during the intermission.

Did he really think she was that stupid?

Perhaps he was just messing with her, and knew that she honestly wouldn't follow him, yet had fun in trying anyways.

"You aren't really going to sit here and wait for thirty minutes until the show starts again, are you?" he questioned, looking back at the stage that now had the curtains drawn.

"I am," Frisk clarified.

"Well then," the man let out a small sigh and continued, "I'll make the wait a bit shorter for you. Why don't I start some friendly conversation?"

Shaking her head Frisk laid back in her chair, feeling trapped in the velvet seat with the man still sitting beside her.

"He won't give up will he," Frisk thought to herself as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, "Is his job really that important to him? What is his motivation?"

"If you want information," she said blankly, "I'm not giving you any. Not with that microphone attached to your collar."

The man hardly moved his eyes away from Frisk to look at the small bump that was barely noticeable on his white collar, before he looked back at her and tried to hide his bewilderment.

"You might as well go get something to eat or use the restroom," Frisk continued, satisfied with her quick thinking, "I'm sure it would be better then sitting here trying to get information from me."

With his stone lips trying to hold back a smile, the man simply replied as he shuffled his comfort, "Actually you seem quite fond of giving out information, I'm sure you'll let a few things slip."

Frisk took note of this, and tried to keep it in her head, determined to make sure she wouldn't let something slip.

"Besides I wasn't going to ask anything personal," he continued, watching as someone passed by, "I was only going to start a friendly conversation."

"Let me start it for you," Frisk interrupted, glaring, "I have never seen you at Cortex before, and I've been working there since I was twenty and have been there for five years, knowing most anyone who's worked there except Capture himself."

The man waited and listened to what she had to say, and Frisk was fine with giving out that information, sure he must already know if Capture had sent him.

"So my question is," Frisk continued, "Who are you?"

Meanwhile Gaster was still seated in the booth that overlooked the audience and stage, while his sons rushed to the bathroom.

His eyes watched the people who went in, and out.

There was no point in searching for any suspicious subjects, because he already knew they were going to capture Frisk, and he knew they would need to do it after the show.