more for the boogerman

[dustless]

 (Continued from here~)

Frisk hopes there's no fight. 

They want to be left alone, sure, but that's not the only thing they hope for. Even they can't just fix a--rivalry, a longstanding hatred, at least not when the opposing parties actually know each other. But they also hope they can...lessen it, at least a bit. So the Sandman doesn't try to outright kill--no, they're sorry, 'banish', with lots of beating and tarry blood--Pitch when they see each other every time.

(Of course, they don't know the whole story. But they can't imagine that would matter.)

The time ticks down in companionable silence. 

Frisk keeps their eyes on the sky--

--and they sit straight up when they first spot glimmering gold in the clouds.

Comments

[boogerman]

Ah, nice. Perfect level of sweetness. Bite number two is larger.

"Well, don't say I didn't try to warn you."

[dustless]

"'Preciate it," they say dryly. Somehow they do not spit crumbs everywhere.

(There's an odd, tiny sliver of fear, apparently unrelated to luck. A bit of 'you might starve don't waste it'.)

[boogerman]

He's been good, not prodding at real fears... very good, Pitch. Thumbs up for behaving like a decent person for once in your life.

His undercurrent of fear is always when will the two of them turn nasty, start a fight, tell him to leave and never come back... soon, soon. It can't last.

He finishes his cake quickly.

[dustless]

"So you prefer cake over pie?" Yes, Toriel noticed that speed. Even Frisk, in their haste, is only halfway through their own slice.

[boogerman]

"I'm still working out what I like." he says with a shrug. "It's been a while since I ate regularly." As they ought to know, and probably do?

[dustless]

Frisk's lips twitch as Toriel's eyes light up a little.



"Ah, that is right. You may come over and try whatever you like, as long as there is a little advance notice. I cook for many people."

[boogerman]

"Advance notice?" he says, amused at the very notion. "How's that going to happen? I don't own a phone, I can't ring you up and say I'm going to pop by."

[dustless]

"Not for visits--" (though she wishes, sometimes) "--but if you would like to take home some food."

[boogerman]

He really doesn't have a phone, these visits so far were not quite planned... Maybe he should look into it.

But that's commitment, admitting this has become a friendship.

"Ah, takeout dinners, I see. I'll consider it."

[dustless]

"Won't regret it," Frisk says. They well and truly believe Toriel's cooking is the best in the world. Certainly the best they've ever tasted.

[boogerman]

He doesn't want to...

Well, he's not sure what he doesn't want to. To be. A bother? But he's a pain in the arse all the time on purpose.

Huh.

"We'll see. I also don't have a fridge."

[dustless]

"Noted. Not all goods need to be refrigerated."

[boogerman]

He sets the plate down, knowing the time has come--for tonight. He did promise no nightmares for Frisk, not once.

What to do next, where to go, who to torment...

"I should go before one of you passes out. Math problems to write on the walls of sleeping children and all that."

[dustless]

Frisk laughs quietly again. "Okay."



"Make certain it is reasonable for their age range," Toriel says with good humor.

"I hope the rest of your Solstice is nice," Frisk adds. They're very slightly guilty about ruining his 'fun' earlier. But he seems to have done alright with all the rest of the stuff.

[boogerman]

"Oh, yes, wouldn't want me copying college math problems and scaring the little brats." Heh. Heaven forbid.

"It's nearly over, anyway. Not long until the next one." It's never 'not long', they happen every year! He looks around--where is the nearest closet?

[dustless]

"You could give the children a fair challenge."

There's a big ol' dark pantry off near the opposite corner.

"See you at new year, maybe." Their tone is softly hopeful.

[boogerman]

"Kids these days, so spoiled." He'll be making his way to that, then, and walking out as if it leads to Narnia!

Or anywhere outdoors, really. Poof, gone.