lostcarnival | [CLOSED]

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Who: Foster van Denend and Sans Undertale
When: Day 46
Where: The Carnival
What: Mimikyu!
Warnings: Foster and his lack of communication skills

Foster had all but forgotten his conversation with Reira, forgotten the way the heightened energies of Wismuth had pulled him under like the tide itself--

Away from that, it's a lot easier to forget and certainly much harder to make himself care, thought-poison injected into his brain or not.

He's been burning bridges and closing doors one after another, but the things he's been addressing aren't the things that bother him most--if he had any memory of it at all, he'd remember this is a pattern, but the Ringmaster only inflicted his memories on him as her punishment, she didn't contextualise them or unpack anything for him. So that opportunity for self-reflection is lost.

Instead, he goes looking for Sans.

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Foster mostly draws Sans's attention due to the fact that he's wandering around mysteriously, checking out the places that Sans would usually be. First he just spots him on the instant photos from his camera, but eventually he decides to seek him out specifically,

Sans does his usual thing, which is to show up without warning and step out of the shadows. He's got a brand new hooded coat that he's wearing with some casual shorts, his second set of arms tucked away and resting on his pelvis.

"Hey," he says, his voice flat. "Lookin for something?" He doesn't particularly want to talk to Foster, but it's basically his job.

Foster isn't exactly spooked; he's well aware of Sans' teleportation, and the skeleton's penchant to use it for jump scares. He does freeze immediately at Sans' appearance, though, and relaxes only after a second, leaning forward--and down, although with Sans barely taller than Reira, there is no truly lowering himself beneath him.

"The Ringmaster warned me against referring to anyone but myself as trash or any other kind of object," he replies brightly--as though Sans of all people could possibly be classified as garbage to begin with. Which is the joke--if it is a joke. It's hard to tell.

He seems to get over the opportunity for wit pretty quickly, though, and sobers hard.

"You still have Mimikyu, correct?"

It's not really a question.

Sans doesn't really get the joke, but that's fine he guesses. Instead, his eyesockets shift in such a way that is suggestive of a raised eyebrow. Which more or less covers the second question, as well.

"Well, I don't have it in my pocket, exactly. But, I know where it is." He's ever so slightly wary about where this is going, and despite the fact that he shouldn't be worried about Foster even trying to overpower him, past experiences make his joints clench ever so slightly. Foster is a sketchy person.

"Why?"

Foster has no intention of attempting to overpower Sans. He wouldn't even dream of it--after all, Sans delivered such a thorough ass kicking the first time around, he'd need a pretty good reason to believe that those power differentials have changed, wouldn't he?

"Then it's still here," Foster replies, immediately more insistent instead of less.

"And I'm not getting it back. Isn't that right?"

"Dunno," Sans says, shrugging his shoulders. This is pretty clearly something he gains no satisfaction from talking about. "Has anything changed since the last time we talked about it?"

Which, really, has been a direct attempt to go under his nose - which was not something he appreciated. Which he made perfectly obvious at the time. So, talking to him directly about it has to be a plus, right?

Edited 2018-04-23 05:14 (UTC)

Foster, however, stares at Sans like he's lost his entire mind.

"You know the answer to that," he says, making it very clear that as far as he's concerned, Sans actually does. Which is to say that he doesn't think anything has changed--nothing that matters, or would merit reconsideration.

Nothing has changed. He hasn't changed. It will never change. Why is

Sans dragging this out--

In hope of change?

He'd laugh, but he has a purpose now, and he exerts nothing if not in pursuit of it.

"Just say it. What are you afraid of? I'll never get it back, right? I'm untrustworthy, I'm disgusting, I'm defective materials! You do know, so just say it! We both know the truth! Say that I'll never have, never see the Mimikyu again--tell me in those exact words, force me to accept it! Go on--make it humiliating! Throw it in my face! Rub it in! Just say it!"

He sounds simultaneously furious and uncontainably excited--but hey, no drool.

Edited 2018-04-23 07:05 (UTC)

Sans's expression becomes even more flat as he regards Foster, the furthest thing from impressed. It's the kind of irritation that makes one torn between telling someone off and just leaving.

"I didn't come here so you could boss me around," he says, eye sockets narrowed, his tone unforgivingly sharp.

Foster turns his head to the side, regarding Sans out of the edge of his vision instead.

"Mmmm. I didn't take you for sharing the Psiionic's temperament." He avoids outright confrontation or venom, but there's definitely a value judgment in that observation.

"But fine. I'm not stupid--I know what that means." He tilts his head back towards Sans, so that now he's looking... up and sideways, more or less.

"There's no reason for this to continue. If you think punishing it for my crime is hurting me... you're wasting your time." And his, really.

"So release it. I don't care where--the next world, the one after, somewhere. You don't have to tell me where! In fact, I would strongly advise against it."

He smiles again, bright but thin.

The implication is pretty obvious: if he knows, he will go looking.

"We're not punishing anything. Hell, I took that thing away from you for its sake." Why does Foster always have to talk so damn much? Say anything to him and he'll just ramble on about bullshit forever.

He has no reaction to being compared to Psi besides an air of vague incredulousness - so his temperament is similar to a friend of his. Whoop dee do. True or not, it's irrelevant to this, so far as Sans is concerned.

"You didn't care about it then and apparently you don't care about it now. Why should its life revolve around you?"

"Exactly." Foster replies, also both incredulous and adamant--that was his point, actually, and he's a little bewildered by the way Sans presented it back at him like an argument.

"So let it go! I don't care, so there's no point to its imprisonment." If Sans will agree with him on that much, then the only creature being affected by Mimikyu's languishing in custody is Mimikyu itself.

"You're keeping it away from me, that's fine! I'm sure that's the right thing to do. Besides, we both know it's not my place to make requests!" His 'cheerful' laugh rings somewhat hollow; then his eyes narrow as he gives Sans a sideways look.

"But it doesn't like being ignored or alone."

Sans rolls several of his eyes, shrugging a shoulder dispassionately.

"You don't know anything about where it is or what it's been doing. And if you don't care, you don't need to know, and you don't need to know what we do with it in the future, either. So why are you talking to me right now?"

It seems a bit ingenuine to seek him out just so Foster can tell him how much he doesn't care about the thing he's asking about.

Sans' logic doesn't make sense to Foster. Of course he doesn't care about finding out where Mimikyu is or what it's been doing. And of course he doesn't care about knowing where Mimikyu ends up, or what it does after. But Mimikyu was his, after all.

"Do I need a reason?" he asks flatly. "You're pretty invested in whether or not I care, and what about. It has nothing to do with me, but you're asking anyway?" He laughs, less hollowly this time. Asking after Mimikyu, advocating for its release--he'd done more damage with good intentions before.

"If I say I care, you have the perfect reason to hang onto it--now you have ammunition. If I say I don't, you hold onto it anyway."

He finds an eye to lock stares with, but he's still way too animated for anger. He's almost dismissively upbeat about it. "Why? What for?" Then, confident and bland: "It won't listen to you, you know."

"Guess it doesn't matter," Sans replies, after a moment of silence. If there's one thing he's not going to do, it's play whatever game Foster is imagining. "So... shoo." He gestures for Foster to leave. "You're done here."

He absolutely means it - he isn't trying to use reverse psychology. As far as he's concerned, Foster can go on home and stop concerning himself with the issue at this point.

Foster almost obeys. He almost turns on Sans' command--starts to turn, even, but then he stops.

And turns to look at Sans.

"What do I have to do," he begins slowly. Warily. He's feeling the words out as he says them, looking for all the world like he's ready for a bomb to go off at any second as he speaks.

"To make it matter?"

Sans stares at him with an expression that pretty clearly reads 'the fuck even.'

"Didn't you just say it didn't concern you? Hate to break it to you, but you're the one that decides what matters or doesn't. Stop wasting my time."

Foster has about one more chance to say something that changes the situation before Sans saves him the trouble of removing himself.

Foster blinks. Frowns. He's the one that decides what matters and what doesn't? That is... honestly the wildest thing anyone's said to him in a very long time.

"If it's up to me..." he says this in the most disbelieving tone possible. It sounds like he's reading from a teleprompter he disagrees with but can't dispute because he's on air.

"Then what matters," He looks physically pained; his claws edge up the side of his head, brow furrowing, ears down. He's lost his ability to make eye contact with Sans at all, he's struggling so intensely, and not because of the absurdity of the statement--like he could possibly tell Sans what matters?! Even though that is, apparently what Sans want him to do--?

Framing things in terms of his interests is an as-yet-unrecognised form of torture. He feels like he's said what matters before in the course of this conversation, more than once even, but it's never enough. It's never enough for anyone that he say something, or how many times he says it. It's like he speaks and no one hears him at all. They just hear nothing. Noise.

He has to say it... the right... way.

".... is whether Mimikyu is happy where it is." His voice is a bit chill, and he still keeps his eyes somewhere off Sans. He's not dragging his claws through his hair any more, though--instead, it's like the more 'sincerely' he expresses this, the less expressive he becomes.

Which may not be the best thing for coming across sincerely.

But when Sans won't even disclose that much--

Edited 2018-04-24 17:22 (UTC)

Sans really, really hopes that he never sounds this ridiculous when speaking to other people, like every word of common sense is a physical pain. His expression remains flat despite the histrionics. The end message is welcome enough, at least.

He stuffs his upper hands into his pockets, shrugging, acting as if Foster didn't just have a breakdown over basically nothing.

"Okay," he says, genuine enough. "Then I'll make sure it is."

The RM was already making sure of that, but that's besides the point.

That happened... so easily. For what little Foster managed, compared to how hard he was trying to say the exact same thing, how many ways he tried to say it--

If Sans considers the cause of Foster's struggles 'basically nothing,' then Foster considers the ease of Sans' acquiescence a huge red flag, and he regards the skeleton with quiet mistrust.

"But you won't let it go." Safe, happy, but not free. "Why? I have a Contract, and a crime to my name." More than one, technically.

"But this isn't the same thing." It's not a question.

"You sure like to assume things, don't you?" Sans replies dryly. "I haven't said anything about where it is or what situation's it in, but you're talking to me like you know."

He doesn't really see the point in telling Foster things when he just keeps making statements about what Sans will, won't, or hasn't done instead of asking. Foster can mistrust him all he wants, and it doesn't make a lick of difference.

"What else am I supposed to do?" Foster is asking sincerely, but it probably doesn't sound like it. He can't exactly come up and pepper Sans (or worse, then Ringmaster) with twenty questions about Mimikyu's status and whereabouts, now can he?

"I'm not hearing otherwise," he notes--although at this point he wouldn't believe Sans no matter what he said. It's obvious to him that trying is only going to make Sans dig his heels in harder.

"And I know where I stand."

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