[CLOSED]

[criticallyfucked]

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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[criticallyfucked]

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?"

[osteothropy]

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.

[criticallyfucked]

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--

[osteothropy]

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.

[criticallyfucked]

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.

[osteothropy]

"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.

[criticallyfucked]

"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."