Taking cover <Frans>

CHAPTER 22: Thinking

Finally, after what seemed like hours or even days, I'm probably exaggerating a bit there. It has probably only been like 10 minutes.

The door keeping the room dark, came to a creak, and the loud groaning made me step out of my thoughts peacefully, as I would like some social interaction, no matter who it was.

The slow slaps of loafers hitting the cellar floors and the rustling of clothing down the hall.

Eventually the one that came to view, was none other than Sans himself. A permanent grin on his face and his usual Mafia getup.

"Oh, to what do I owe the pleasure?" I said cheekily, obviously quoting Shakespeare.

He looked at me with confusion in his eyes for a brief moment, as if he did not know how to respond to my comment. He was hailing a bottle of some kind, it looked like a crimson from the dim lighting at the back of the cell, where I was placed.

"You startn' a new language there toots?" He said, chuckling a bit, and taking a swig of the new, profound drink in his skeletal hands.

"It's Shakespeare to you." I spat, as anyone should know Shakespeare. Though I guess it's only fair hey we're trapped inside a mountain for god knows how long.

"Didn't know you liked poems. You call yourself a literacy geek, or do ya just read murder mysteries?" He eyed me, as he sat in the small wooden chair in front of the cell.

"I don't really have the time." I said, "but I do get really bored in here. Maybe some books to read would be nice." I said, bringing my right hand up to my chin, purposely showing him my freed hand.

"You're a prisoner, not a guest." He grumbled, holding the bottle up to his mouth again.

"Are you drinking?" I asked, finally fed up with his lazy act. He's definitely not like that in the battlefield.

"Nah toots, I'm eating." He said sarcastically, as if this was a natural scene. "Yes I'm drinking."

"No. Not like that.!" I shake my head in annoyance. "Are you drinking alcohol?" I grumbled, pretty smart comeback..

"Why, ya want some?" Stopped the bottle half way into taking another swing.

"No! Not with you're skeletal germs all over the bottle!" I turned my head and crossed my arms, glancing down at my basket, only to find nothing there.

"No. It's not alcohol." He grumbled.

"Then what is it?"

"Why should I tell you? You never tell me anything." He said, placing the contents on the floor, revealing a tomato on the label.

Is he drinking... ketchup?!

"That's..." I trailed off, seeing how he made a point. "Look, disks just come here to antagonize me or didja need something?!" I spat back at him, I refuse to give someone as low as him the pleasure of getting to me.

"Nah. Asgore wanted me to check in ya every once and a while, unfortunately." He said, a frown forming on his face. "You're looking a bit tired there." He grinned, slouching in the chair lazily.

"No I'm not! I just woke up, that's all." I said. I have been sleeping way too often.

I still feel slightly sick, now that I mention it.

"Really? Cuz you're swaying a bit." He used his skeletal finger to point of my swaying torso.

I didn't even realize how hard I was trying to keep myself awake throughout all of this. I really didn't trust anyone here yet, and I am still afraid to really let my guard down despite being asleep for three days.

And I never sleep this much! I've always been an Insomniac! This is so foreign to me, it probably either the IVs or the medicine.

"I said I'm fine." I emphasized fine a bit harsher than I intended too, but the more I realized that I was tired, the heavier my eyelids began to feel.

"Ya lookin' a bit pale there, toots. Ya might wanna sleep on it." Sans chuckled before I fell back.

The last thing I saw was his stupid grin behind the metal bars, just sitting there, watching and waiting.