"yeah. thank you, naneth." He offers her a grateful smile, before accepting the hand S-4 offers upright. Even then, Sans-Serif sways a little, and finds himself forced to lean against his brother for support. After a minute, he realizes why - he's smaller, now. He'd grown a little, in the castle - grown at least a little taller, and certainly grown more solid. But here, once again, he's spindly and thin. It's as though his body has been rewound, even if his mind hasn't.
All the more reason to get reacquainted with the place, he supposes - for reasons of practicality, if nothing else.
Sans-Serif nods down at the low table they were seated at. "that's where we do art therapy. so doctor gaster can see what we're thinking about. since...we couldn't really talk before." He never really cared much for it, earlier. He never really saw the point, as he hadn't seen the point of so many things. Now, he hopes that their time to draw won't be cut short, just because they can now express themselves in other ways.
Shoving that thought aside for later, he points instead towards what looks like a bench, set against one wall. "that's where he tests our reflexes and makes sure we can still see." Though despite its stated purpose as an examination table, a few folders and papers have been left there, "just for now". It's always "just for now", at least until Gaster gets distracted and suddenly it's days later. Then Sans-Serif points to a desk crammed against another wall, piled high with tottering stacks of papers and folders around a computer with its screen still glowing. "that's doctor gaster's desk. i think he has another office somewhere, because he goes away a lot while he's working. but i think he keeps the notes on us in here."
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Date: 2016-07-08 10:35 pm (UTC)All the more reason to get reacquainted with the place, he supposes - for reasons of practicality, if nothing else.
Sans-Serif nods down at the low table they were seated at. "that's where we do art therapy. so doctor gaster can see what we're thinking about. since...we couldn't really talk before." He never really cared much for it, earlier. He never really saw the point, as he hadn't seen the point of so many things. Now, he hopes that their time to draw won't be cut short, just because they can now express themselves in other ways.
Shoving that thought aside for later, he points instead towards what looks like a bench, set against one wall. "that's where he tests our reflexes and makes sure we can still see." Though despite its stated purpose as an examination table, a few folders and papers have been left there, "just for now". It's always "just for now", at least until Gaster gets distracted and suddenly it's days later. Then Sans-Serif points to a desk crammed against another wall, piled high with tottering stacks of papers and folders around a computer with its screen still glowing. "that's doctor gaster's desk. i think he has another office somewhere, because he goes away a lot while he's working. but i think he keeps the notes on us in here."