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]

His hand stills, ending the Frisk-petting, as the proper common sense bit of his mind realizes what the hell he just did for the last hour or so. Thank goodness he didn't go wild and trash their home.

The worst bit was probably the dancing.

Act casual. Keep your cool until you can simply sneak off. "...Are you in the habit of exchanging gifts on New Years?" Please don't be.

[dustless]

Frisk will not stand for that.

In other words, they subconsciously tip their head into his hand. More please thanks.



"I am unsure about everyone else. It is not mandatory, although Frisk and I will be bringing plenty of baked goods!"

[boogerman]

Baby steps. He hasn't withdrawn his hand yet, and what are you, a giant kitten?

"Everything I tend to collect is stolen, in any case." As they know--or at least Frisk does.

[dustless]

They are a child who loves affection and hasn't been able to get a hug from him.



Toriel is not pleased to hear that, but it does make unfortunate sense, once she considers it. Cannot be seen, cannot be heard. He has no chance to get a job or make a bargain.

"No need to concern yourself, then."

[boogerman]

A funny thing, considering Frisk has no shortage of people who would give them hugs, he's sure. And go to their parties. With presents.

"Good, because I don't cook, either." It tends to turn out just short of poisonous when he tries.

[dustless]

They like giving and receiving it from all their friends.

Toriel sits up a little more.



"Do you not know how?"

Frisk's lips twitch.

[boogerman]

He's able to sense fear, not dangerous awful traps like what's coming for him. Not at all.

"No. What would I do with food? I don't get hungry, I don't want regular meals."

[dustless]

"But you enjoy a meal sometimes, do you not?"

[boogerman]

Thoughtfully, "Food does seem to have improved in the last century or so. More flavorful. They don't know how lucky they are, these days."

[dustless]

"You could learn to make delicious meals, even if they do not always fill your stomach. I--we--would be glad to teach you!"

[boogerman]

Awk...ward. "I'm not very good at it, you know." With a hint of defensiveness: "One person can't be good at everything."

[dustless]

"That is perfectly fine! If you are willing, we can start with the very basics. I enjoy teaching, and Frisk enjoys helping."

"And she makes really good stuff, you'll learn a lot," they say, nodding seriously under his hand.

[boogerman]

The whole idea is making him feel... strange, in a way he might be able to describe if he had several days to think it over. What is happening to him?

"I'm curious, why is cooking so important to you?" Funnily enough, he doesn't mean any harm by this question either. There's a distinct lack of mockery--neither of them deserve being mocked right now.

(i feel cheesy but emotional abt this)

[dustless]

"Personally, and to keep concise...it was only a comfort in my darkest, loneliest years. Now, it is a reminder that I am not alone, even when I am making it by myself."

(She did not miss that loneliness explanation Frisk gave.)

"And it's fun to do anyway." Frisk nods seriously again. "Making a thing that tastes good."

feels

[boogerman]

Uncomfortable, twisty feelings on top of the other strange one, plus fear that it's all going to reveal itself to be a horrid trap... this was easier when he was chugging a bottle a minute.

"I'll keep it in mind."

[dustless]

Toriel has patience, as does Frisk. Even if they don't like having to wait.



"Thank you. I do not think you should come while we are preparing for New Years, but I will be free for cooking almost every time school is not in session, if you choose to."

[boogerman]

New Years is only a little over a week away, he can stay busy that long, of course. And they'll be doing other holiday things, the holiday which shall not be named... blech.

"I'm sure I'll be able to survive until after the holidays, if I do." Hah.

[dustless]

"Us too." Barely. There's lots of work to do, and more parties happening first, just in smaller places. At least the New Years one's gonna have lots of dark places to hang out.



"...I was thinking of baking something soon." This isn't entirely true, but she is still up to it. "If you would like to make some observations."

[boogerman]

"Another pie?" Just like before, with the fire instead of the oven... that right there is something he can't do.

His hand comes back to life, petting Frisk's hair very very softly, and then he takes his hand away. But he doesn't stand up, see.

[dustless]

"Pies are what I am the best at. But this time, I was considering a cake!"

Frisk stays in his personal bubble, and probably will until he makes them move. Or if they end up heading to the kitchen.

[boogerman]

Dessert again, how dull. That's not what he thinks of when he thinks of a meal. Sausages and eggs, now that would be something.

"I suppose I could watch."

[dustless]

Well, he'd need to ask, then.



"Excellent!"

Toriel stands smoothly, then pauses. "Would you be able to make it to the kitchen?" Yes, he seems much more sober, but she cannot be sure if he is shaking off the remnants and acting very well.

[boogerman]

Demand things of them, when they've been so decent as to let him in? ...Nah, not tonight. Not unless he gets bored and less full of feelings.

He stands up, dislodging Frisk and leaving the poor little thing all alone on the floor, wrinkling his nose a bit. "What? ...You know, you both ask the weirdest questions sometimes." Then--sorry, Toriel--he's fetching his laptop off the bed, folding it shut and tucking it beneath his arm. He'll 'feed' it later at some hotel, when he remembers.

[dustless]

Whatever. Frisk pops up and races out, yanking the plugs of the christmas lights from the walls.



"I do not know if boogeymen can get hangovers. It is better safe than sorry."

[boogerman]

"I can hardly get drunk. I'm not like you lot." He's fine. If he's going to get a headache, it'll be from the lights. What a stupid holiday.