[ Holy moly, if that doesn't sound like it came straight outta some sci-fi book.
Sans can't say he disapproves, either, but with a unit and type designation, then she's gotta be some kind of construct. One with a soul, is what he assumes, simply because of the bias of personal experience. Ghosts weren't really the lingering souls of deceased humans, but their own class of monster, magical beings that were exiled to the Underground long, long ago by humankind. Ghosts tended to take their sweet time selecting some sort of suitable shell to occupy as their body, and if he remembers correctly, settling down into one's new identity was a cause for celebration.
Considering her sophistication, he assumes this is a particularly favorable home for whatever soul inhabits this weirdly human-like body. Well, he can't judge. Mettaton wanted to be a big star, both in the Underground and above it. Shrugging at the rejection, he pushes himself up to his feet, abandoning his 'post' at the ramshackle food stall.
2B or not to be, huh? Heh. ]
Nice t'meetcha.
[ He reaches back behind his own column of cervical vertebrae and, tipping his skull one way and then the other, audibly cricks something. It's clear, after a moment, that his eye lights are scanning the crowd, or the space they're occupying, as he beckons her to follow when he starts to shuffle off. ]
Seein' as it's my break, I better pointcha somewhere you can clean that off.
So... whaddya think? Of this whole thing we're in.
no subject
Sans can't say he disapproves, either, but with a unit and type designation, then she's gotta be some kind of construct. One with a soul, is what he assumes, simply because of the bias of personal experience. Ghosts weren't really the lingering souls of deceased humans, but their own class of monster, magical beings that were exiled to the Underground long, long ago by humankind. Ghosts tended to take their sweet time selecting some sort of suitable shell to occupy as their body, and if he remembers correctly, settling down into one's new identity was a cause for celebration.
Considering her sophistication, he assumes this is a particularly favorable home for whatever soul inhabits this weirdly human-like body. Well, he can't judge. Mettaton wanted to be a big star, both in the Underground and above it. Shrugging at the rejection, he pushes himself up to his feet, abandoning his 'post' at the ramshackle food stall.
2B or not to be, huh? Heh. ]
Nice t'meetcha.
[ He reaches back behind his own column of cervical vertebrae and, tipping his skull one way and then the other, audibly cricks something. It's clear, after a moment, that his eye lights are scanning the crowd, or the space they're occupying, as he beckons her to follow when he starts to shuffle off. ]
Seein' as it's my break, I better pointcha somewhere you can clean that off.
So... whaddya think? Of this whole thing we're in.