alas, it's not omelettes

[lovetheme]

His stay in this castle has gotten a lot longer than expected.

Which is a bit worrying for a variety of different reasons. But then there's the more practical concerns of being trapped in a magical castle, too--like the fact that most of the food to be found so far consists of either fruits from the garden or cakes from the ballroom, mostly. (Cakes with strange not-edible things inside them...) And that's just...not enough, honestly. A growing boy is a perpetually hungry one, and there's a lot to be said for the lack of actual meals lately.

But today Lucas finally stumbles into a kitchen in his wanderings. It's disappointingly ghost-free, much the way the rest of the castle has been--he wonders what Duster would think of all this--but still, the room is large, and there are pots and utensils hung across the walls, and vegetables in the cabinets. ...Perfectly fresh vegetables. Which is pretty odd, but...everything else about this place is odd already. Lucas sets them out on the counter anyway.

Because he does know how to cook, a bit. Flint would often be away for multiple days at a time, and so Lucas is mostly self-taught, using advice from fellow villagers and experimenting a bit on his own...after three years, putting together a decent vegetable stew isn't too hard at all. There's a wood stove that's easy enough to light a fire in, and there's water here and a large pot there...

And so visitors might be drawn in by a faint but pleasant smell, wafting through the open kitchen doorway. Lucas is found standing at a counter (on top of a tall stool, so that he can actually reach everything), carefully chopping more assorted vegetables with a knife while a large pot simmers gently on the stove nearby. He's humming to himself very softly, but is otherwise absorbed in deep concentration as he tries to get these vegetable chunks just the right size, and doesn't notice anyone coming in or watching just yet.

Comments

[sansational]

Sans finds himself tilting his head back and further back, trying to imagine a human that tall. It's a little dizzying, actually. He finds that he can't really imagine it, except by imaging a human stretched to impossible proportions. So he's actually not that far off, even as he looks back at Lucas somewhat skeptically.

But any doubts are driven out of his head by virtue of the sheer oddity, at least from Sans' perspective, of that question.

"uh...wow." He laughs a little, eyesockets half-closing in thought. "it's been a while since anyone has thought to ask us that. i guess it kinda stopped mattering to us, after a while?" Papyrus had been content to take the lead in life, and Sans had been content to arrange things from behind the scenes. They'd both made life comfortable for one another in their own ways. "but, uh, papyrus was younger than me. gaster was older." He doesn't intend to imply anything by the use of "was", even if the implication the words convey is the accurate one anyway. Which could be a sign of progress, or just more denial. It's hard for even Sans to tell, most days. Maybe it's just that he doesn't have anything to hide from Lucas the way he might from Frisk or S-4.

Still, something about the look on Lucas' face is...familiar, or at least recognizable. As he settles back into his seat, Sans finds that he's equally helpless to stop himself asking: "though, uh, since you mentioned 'too'...you got an older brother waiting back home, kiddo?"

ah......this escalated quickly :'V ALL ABOARD THE BROTHERLY-FEELINGS TRAIN

[lovetheme]

'Was'....was. An older brother and a younger one, but not currently anymore. It's a familiar implication, to say the least, and it has Lucas's hands stilling around his potato even before Sans ends up asking a similar question himself.

That question certainly sets something into place, though, and Lucas's entire frame ends up stilling too. He stares at Sans for a moment, expression maybe blank or maybe surprised or maybe just--confused. As if he doesn't know how to answer. (This would be about right.)

"He's--resting now." They're the first words to come to mind, and Lucas finds that the tone of his own voice suddenly feels unfamiliar in his mouth, somehow. Weight slides off the counter as he straightens on his feet again. "...He was very tired. He's resting with Mom, back home. But--but he was older, yes."

Lucas looks down to find his knuckles turning white around the potato in his hand. He hadn't noticed he was gripping it that hard--hadn't felt it. But suddenly it's easier to turn away from Sans, in that moment, if only so he can put the potato back on the counter. ...And reach for the knife, and--yes, that's right, he ought to finish cutting these potatoes before the stew's done...

Peeling is a bit harder with unsteady hands, apparently. "Claus. That's...that was his name."

It's both their faults, honestly.

[sansational]

And that is some familiar body language, even before Lucas turns away. It's familiar from the mirror, and Sans realizes too late that he's just made a horrible mistake. He draws back in his seat, eyesockets flickering dark for a moment. He opens his mouth, thinks better of it, and closes it quickly enough to make his teeth click.

With Lucas turned safely away, Sans rests his head in his hands and thinks some very bad words at himself.

"'claus'. that's, uh...that's a nice name. hope he...hope he rests easy." Sans doesn't really know what to say beyond that. Human attitudes about death and burial have always confused and unsettled him.

Part of him wants to apologize. Part of him doubts that Lucas would want to hear apologies from someone who should have known better than to ask a question like that to begin with. He goes for it anyway, even if Sans can't quite manage to get his voice much above a mumble. "sorry." And then the silence just gets...heavy and awkward and especially bad, before Sans takes another stab at breaking it.

"so, uh...height. yeah." His voice is shaky and just a little too high. There is no good way to salvage this conversation, but Sans makes a valiant effort anyway. "i, uh, i don't think there's ever been a monster as tall as old leder. definitely not by my time. wouldn't work out that great, a monster being that tall when we're all underground. come to think of it, i think the tallest monster i ever knew is our king, asgore. he might have a little trouble standing up in here, what with the horns."

it's tru...rip both of them

[lovetheme]

Sans couldn't have said anything much better than that, probably--with the circumstances considered, and the little he knows where human death might be concerned. Lucas hopes Claus is resting easy too. ("Claus... Come to your mother. You must be so exhausted--")

The apology is so quiet that if the silence were any less thick in this room it might have been missed--but as it stands right now, it rings pretty clearly in the air anyway. Lucas is quiet, hands fumbling at his knife and his potato, something numb in his fingertips, in the back of his throat. He's not the most eloquent sort of person on a normal basis, but now...he's not sure what to say. Somehow he feels like neither of them are, as the silence stretches. But Lucas certainly isn't mad at Sans in any particular capacity, much less for asking a question like that--how could Sans have known, after all? Lucas had never said anything about Claus otherwise, until then. If anything, Lucas finds he's blaming himself far more now--for mentioning brothers in the first place, for responding in such an odd way. Sans had no problem talking about his brothers-that-aren't-currently-anymore; why couldn't Lucas talk about it the same way, instead of ruining the conversation like this? Claus's death already feels like years and years ago, sometimes. (Even if it wasn't really. Even if--)

Sans is trying to talk about something else, now. Heights again. A twinge of something like chagrin catches in Lucas's chest, listening to Sans try so hard to remedy things. He ought to be trying too. Claus wouldn't have approved, the way he's acting right now...

"That--that does sound like it would be a little hard. Getting around with horns, if you were very tall..." His own voice still doesn't sound entirely right either. Lucas stares down at his knife, pressed halfway through the potato but pausing now. It's another burst of silence, stretched taut and terribly uncertain. Lucas exhales slowly. "...It's alright, though. About Claus. You don't--need to be sorry. You didn't know." He presses the knife the rest of the way through the potato, carving out an uneven chunk. This shouldn't be so hard. "He was older than me, but not by a lot. We were almost the same age. So, we were mostly the same height, too. But he--but he always told me he was sure he was taller, just by--half of half an inch. Liked to make fun about--about--"

The next chunk of potato ends up being even more unsteadily-cut than the last. His hands shake; the knife slips a bit, and slices into one of his fingers instead. .

"Oh--ow--" He drops the knife, half-stumbling off his stool and holding his hand with a frown as red starts trickling from the side of one finger.

[sansational]

Sans actually flinches a little at Lucas' quiet offer of forgiveness, ducking his head even further. He catches himself reaching back for the hood of his coat, meaning and wanting to pull it up over his head before he stops himself. But he also keeps listening. He owes the kid that much, obviously. And despite himself, Sans even finds himself smiling a little. Brothers, it seems, aren't that different at heart regardless of species.

He doesn't sound quite as okay as he did a minute ago, when he speaks again. But his tone of voice is unmistakably, almost painfully fond, and he's still smiling wistfully even as he stares at nothing very much. "i was actually always kinda happy, that papyrus was so much taller than me. whenever we were going somewhere, and he'd get mad at how slow i was going, he'd just...pick me up and carry me the rest of the way." And for a little while, Sans would feel safe.

He's distracted from these pleasant memories by the half-cry of pain from Lucas. Sans' head snaps up, and he seems to...appear on the other side of the table, making to move forward again. Then he sees just what's happened, and he stops, feeling cold down to the marrow.

Blood. Some monsters wouldn't even know what it is. Sans has seen too much of it.

As much for an excuse to look away as anything else, Sans looks around for a rag or something similar. He spots one hanging on a wall, and doesn't speak again until he's gone over to retrieve it and brought it back for the human.

"i can, um, still be sorry. that it happened, i mean. losing a brother...it kinda feels like a chunk's been ripped out of you inside, doesn't it? so you're just..."

A second attack not supposed to happen bright sharp pain blood blood peace dust

"...bleeding."

Humans aren't supposed to bleed. Neither are skeletons. Both can bleed a surprising amount. Sans manages to catch his breath and recover his wits enough to ask: "should i, um...should i get anything else for that?" He indicates Lucas' finger a little shakily.

[lovetheme]

Ah...it certainly seems that brothers will be brothers, whether it's a skeleton brother or a human one. The fondness in Sans's voice is unmistakable, even if it's more than a little pained too--and Lucas can understand it, on the very deepest sort of level. Claus was much the same, he thinks, even if he was never tall enough to pick up Lucas with the ease that Papyrus must have been able to with Sans. Lucas remembers being scared of most everything when Claus was still around, be it odd sounds at night or meeting new people--and it was always Claus who'd charge ahead to scout things out for the both of them first, brave and hasty child that he was. Impatient that Lucas would never try it himself, of course, always sighing and cajoling about it, but--he'd always felt safer when Claus did it, too, and they both knew that.

It seems to be a knack, with brothers.

But cutting yourself with a knife accidentally tends to tamp down on warm and fuzzy feelings a bit. Later on Lucas would be just a bit frustrated with himself, that he still can't even keep his hands steady when talking about Claus--but for now he's still mostly surprised he'd cut himself at all. And then he jumps, more than a little violently, when Sans is suddenly in front of the counter in a blink.

--Out of concern, it turns out, which is reassuring enough for Lucas to relax again. (Though, that was fast....he doesn't think he's ever seen even Duster move that fast. Just what was that?) Lucas hovers uncertainly at the counter, watching as Sans moves to grab an old towel and bring it over. Something in his demeanor, and the way he's looking at the still-bleeding cut...but then Sans speaks, and the words briefly drive all those other thoughts out of his head. Lucas pauses, and then accepts the towel slowly, dabbing at his finger gingerly but staring at Sans. Of course he'd know how it feels--of course he'd know exactly how to describe it. And yet...

"You got--two chunks. Taken out." The fingertips of his uninjured hand curl into the towel. Lucas's tone is understanding, but also mournful. Two brothers, an older one and a younger one...he tries to imagine it, but he doesn't think he could. It's the same and it's different, terribly different. Would it be like losing Claus twice over, to lose both? Did it happen at the same time, or at different times? (Would that make it better, or worse--?) The questions cluster in his chest, tightening breath, but Lucas doesn't dare let them out.

Instead he blinks at the question, as it sinks in belatedly, and looks down to the bony hand pointing a little shakily at his own. The cut's almost become more of an afterthought already, even if his finger still throbs a fair amount...but pulling away the towel a bit, he finds it's still bleeding quite a bit. Deeper than he thought.

"...Oh. No, it's okay. It's a little deep, but not too bad. Hold on." Mopping clear what blood he can, Lucas sets the towel on the counter for long enough to hold his free hand over the injured one for a moment, pausing and focusing.

Lucas tried Lifeup α! It's faint in the daylight of the kitchen, but the flicker of green is still hard to miss as it passes over Lucas's hand--and Lucas in general, prickling behind his eyes and teeth. Not much, being an α-class skill, but it's still more than enough to close up the gash completely.

[sansational]

"yeah, i did." And up until very recently, it had felt as though he just didn't have that much more in him to lose. Life has gotten better here, or at least it's gotten less lonely. "that's why i know how bad it can be, for anyone. that's why i know that no one should have to go through that. you...you don't have to feel bad for me more than you feel bad for yourself. i'm definitely not going to feel bad for you less than i feel bad for me." Certainly not with how many times he's seen Papyrus die.

Sans falls silent, then, watching whatever Lucas has in mind to heal that finger. The sight of what even he recognizes as genuine healing magic is a surprise, but a good one. "nice trick," he says, nodding in approval as the cut closes up. "most monsters can do something like that but, uh, i've never had the knack." And that fact is starting to increasingly frustrate him. "hopefully you won't need to do that all that often." But he's already thinking back to how Frisk had looked, after their first encounter with S-4.

That thought drives Sans on to add: "and at least he's, uh, here now. kind of." It's not that S-4 is only sort-of his brother, of course. It's just that he's only sort-of Papyrus. It's been good to have him around, and it doesn't sound as though Lucas has been that fortunate. "and gaster was here for a little bit."

[lovetheme]

It's an interesting way to put it, the way Sans does. But...it does make sense, too, in its own way. Even if he's still pretty sure Sans has it a fair amount worse, in this case--but if it's by his own request... "Then...we can feel bad for each other in equal amounts, I suppose." It sounds a lot less elegant when he says it that way, ah...oh well. Still-- "I'm sorry too. About Papyrus, and Gaster. They sound like they were good brothers."

Lifeup now cast, Lucas wipes off the rest of his finger properly until the blood's all gone, with an air of someone who's done this many times before; he glances up at Sans's reaction. "Oh, thank you. Is that true for monsters? ...Not many humans can do this back home, actually. Maybe healing isn't for everyone, I think." He shrugs slightly. "Hope I don't have to use it too often either. But if you ever get hurt, or sick, I wouldn't mind helping."

In truth, this is the longest he's gone without using any PSI or PK skills in awhile. And that would indeed mean that something violent's probably afoot, if he started needing to use them again now, but still...it feels a bit odd, now he thinks about it. Lucas begins neatly folding the towel to be put away (and maybe washed) later, but then Sans's words set in. Fingertips falter, and he freezes, looking up at Sans sharply with widened eyes.

Wait... "They've been here--in this castle? Papyrus and Gaster?" 'Kind of'? What could that mean? And...how...?

[sansational]

"sounds good to me." Sans actually does look notably relieved at Lucas' agreement. "and...yeah, they were. i was lucky to have 'em while i did." On good days, he could look at it like that. At least he'd had most of his life with the two of them.

What is it with all these human children who are way too adept at cleaning up their own wounds? Sans makes a face at the thought. "not many humans back home, either. monsters are always better than magic. no offense. it's just, uh, something in the soul. but you've got to have at least kind of a strong soul to do it, and i...well, really don't. so that's nice of you to offer, kiddo. but you'll never need to worry about me, at least." If Sans ever gets hurt, or sick, it'll be too late for any sort of healing. In a way, that's wound up working out in his favor in the past. Any fight or dangerous situation for him is all or nothing.

He smiles apologetically at Lucas' disbelief, shrugging helplessly. Even Sans can tell that it's a somewhat ridiculous explanation, and he has experience at this sort of thing.

"yeah. or...well, it's like gaster always taught me. the number of timelines in existence approaches infinity. you and me and everyone in this castle, we're the walking proof of that, right? so even where our own worlds are concerned, there are timelines where things went one way or things went another. papyrus, gaster, and me...we're all, uh, basically the same people. just, different stuff happened to us to get us here. sorry. i know it doesn't make sense. a lot of my life doesn't make sense."

His eyelights go distant, his expression grows fond. "it's been great having 'em here, though. can't remember the last time we were all together."

[lovetheme]

"Yeah. It's very lucky...having a good family."

And it always seems as if you never really realize just how lucky you were, until they aren't there anymore. But--it's all in how you look at things, yes. Lucas certainly doesn't regret all the time he was able to spend with Mom, and Claus, even if in the end it was all shorter than it should have been.

He sets the towel on the counter, off to one side where it won't get in the way but won't be forgotten later. Something in the soul? "No offense taken. ...I've never met very many monsters, before. --That were much for conversation. But it makes sense they'd be better with magical things. ...Nobody's ever said anything about my soul, but, they did say things about my heart. Maybe it's the same thing." Lucas sounds neither proud nor unhappy, about this--almost a bit tired, even, more than anything. (It'd been a weighty burden, all that expectation, and he still feels it sometimes...) He frowns at Sans and his admission about--a weak soul?--for a long moment. "...Everybody's strong in their own way. But that's okay. Even if you think you'll be alright...if you need a healer for any friends too, I wouldn't mind that either. I've gotten a lot of practice in."

He ought to get back to the vegetables and the soup, at some point. Probably. But the stew's at a low simmer, not due to be finished for a little while yet, and Lucas still isn't sure if he trusts his own hands with cutting anything, yet. Not while the topic of brothers is so close by. Instead he can only stand riveted in place, listening intently to Sans's explanation of multiple timelines and living brothers right here in the castle alongside him. --The same brothers, but from different--events. ...And Lucas thinks he can almost understand, how this might be possible.

The moment such a possibility fully registers, though, a cold and quiet chill of something like dread passes over his thoughts too. If anybody from any timeline could come, even dead--then Claus could too, couldn't he? But he doesn't deserve to be raised up as the Masked Man yet again. No. No...Lucas would rather he were resting with Mom a thousand times over, no matter how much he misses him. ...Unless there was a timeline--where Claus had never become the Masked Man at all? A Claus that had never gone away to avenge Mom. A Claus...

He can almost imagine it--but Lucas dashes away the thought before he can figure out if he really can. He doesn't want to, he thinks. It'd never go away. Lucas folds his arms, almost looking more as if he'd holding onto himself for some sort of support, expression caught somewhere between surprise and--something else. But he doesn't let it settle, especially at Sans's fond words, and he ducks his head. "...No, it's okay. This castle doesn't really...make a lot of sense either. --But--I'm glad they've been here. You could all be together again, as brothers. ...And that's what matters in the end, maybe. No matter how much sense it doesn't make."

The sentiment's a sincere one, even if his voice can't help but get a little quieter now. But, finally, Lucas shifts where he's standing, moving back over towards the abandoned potatoes.

[sansational]

"if it's a strong heart that lets you heal, then yeah. probably the same thing." He taps a fingerbone against his ribcage for evidence. "me, i wouldn't exactly know. a lot of monsters don't have hearts. even the ones who do, it's, uh, more of an accident in how the body develops. it's the soul that's important, for us. but humans are full of surprises, aren't ya?"

Otherwise, he says nothing more, giving Lucas time to process the idea of timelines and similar. It's clear to Sans the moment he understands the possible implications for this place, but still, he remains silent. Whether that's a possibility Lucas hopes for or dreads is something he can only say for himself, and Sans won't intrude on that. So he only replies to that sincere sentiment with a nod and a "thanks, lucas. nice of you to say." Despite the offhanded words, he means the gratitude just as much. And, as Lucas turns back to the potatoes, Sans returns to his seat at the table.

"that smells nice. really nice, actually." Sans is not one for healthy eating, on the whole, and yet that stew has him feeling genuinely hungry for perhaps the first time since arriving at the castle. After talking to Lucas for a while, he thinks he might even understand why. "even if i'm all out of growing...mind if i have some, when you're done?"

[lovetheme]

Hm. If they were talking literal hearts, yes, that's probably true--and Sans definitely doesn't appear to have one of those. But Lucas half-wonders if the Magypsies had meant something along the lines of a more...figurative heart, now. The kind that even monsters might have.

But he isn't sure, and in the end it doesn't really matter, probably. "Surprises? ...Yes, I suppose we are..."

It's not too difficult to see the gratitude behind Sans's offhanded thanks, either. Lucas nods a bit, in return, before he situates himself back next to the potatoes on the counter. It's a bit of a mess over here now...hm....but Sans's remarks about the stew have him turning a bit in surprise.

"Oh--no, I wouldn't mind at all. I think I've made a bit too much for just me already...more used to cooking for one more person." Well, one more dog, to be more precise. But either way. Lucas finds he can finally muster up a very small smile for Sans. "It's good for people who don't grow too, I think. Shouldn't be too long before it's done now."

And then he turns to his potatoes, frowning and making no motion to pick up the knife again. Everything considered... "Maybe--it doesn't need potatoes this time after all, though..."

[sansational]

Sans returns the smile easily enough, pleased to have at least seen Lucas back onto an apparently even emotional keel. Then he folds his arms on the table, moving to rest his head on top of them.

"mind if i hang out here while you finish up? not to put any pressure on you, or anything. just because hey, this looks like as good a spot for a nap as any."

He might as well sleep here than anywhere else. It smells nice in here - healthy, but he's started to realize that he actually thinks good things about that fact. Dimly, Sans remembers that he'd been coming down here to find food at the start of this conversation. More than a little emotionally wrung out and with a lot to think about, he can't seem to bring himself to care about going looking for it now.

[lovetheme]

That really had been a rather intense conversation--and it'd happened so suddenly...but now things seem to be settling again. Sans doesn't push on it, moving on easily, and Lucas finds himself rather thankful for that. But then again, Sans probably already understands that sort of pain better than most--twice over, if anything. (Two brothers...)

Lucas begins picking up errant potato slices and putting them in another free basket, to be set aside. Saved for something later, maybe. It'd be a waste to throw them away, but...he really doesn't enjoy cutting potatoes. "Sure, you can--um, hang out. If you want to take a nap." Sans had been sleeping the last time Lucas ran into him too, now he thinks about it. Do skeletons usually take a lot of naps? Passing another almost curious glance at Sans over his shoulder, Lucas supposes there's no reason why a skeleton wouldn't nap a lot... "I'll try not to be too loud or anything. And, let you know, when the soup's finished?"

[sansational]

Sans understands that sort of pain better than most, twice over and again and again for the second occasion. He's seen Papyrus die a great many times. The last time had just been the worst.

And he can appreciate from his own experience that sometimes talking helps, and sometimes quiet helps. Just getting through the day can make a difference. Other things or other experiences can dull the pain or hide it away. He doesn't mind offering Lucas whichever the kid might need, because no one should have to understand this pain at all.

Sans offers a thumbs-up of agreement. "you got it." Then he tugs his hood up over his head, rests his head on his folded arms, and is asleep within seconds. Hopefully, the soft snoring sounds won't be too noisy for Lucas, either.

His dreams are strange and sad, rather than nightmarish or awful. He dreams that he's back home in Snowdin, resting at the kitchen table while Papyrus cooks instead. His dream-self knows that Gaster should be home from the lab soon. His conscious mind knows that he never will be. And there's so much he wants to tell his brother as he watches him happily clattering around - that it smells good, that he's really getting better, that Sans loves him and misses him and he's sorry and please please don't go to fight the human alone. But his mouth won't open. The words don't come. He just sits at home their old house and watches Papyrus being alive and happy the only way he can anymore.

It's just as well that Sans is asleep with his head down. He'll be quite embarrassed about the hints of blue around his eyesockets when he wakes up. Occasionally, he mumbles sleepily, but nothing that sounds much like words.

[lovetheme]

The soft snoring isn't too much of a problem at all--Dad had always snored much louder by comparison, back home, and you sort of had to get used to it. (...Back when Dad used to sleep at home with everyone every night...) Lucas leaves Sans to his nap, and goes about the rest of his cooking as quietly as he can--which isn't very hard either, since he's generally a pretty quiet worker by default anyway.

He adds a few more carrots and some spices he finds in a cupboard with some digging, salt and pepper and a tiny bottle of something pale and powdery he doesn't recognize (though it smells nice, so he adds a bit of that in too). Eventually his humming starts up again out of habit, as quiet as it was before--if not a bit disjointed, and trailing off at parts, and never really managing to string together a full song. Mom used to hum a lot when cooking too, but it's been so long he can never remember all the right notes anymore...

Then, ingredients finished, he lets the pot simmer while he trails out to wash the towel and the knife in running water, returns, sets all the baskets and platters back where he'd found them. And waits. And finally the smell is strong enough to fill the whole room, and he figures the soup is about done, and Lucas pulls out a couple of bowls and spoons.

He fills one of them with a ladle before he finally trails over to Sans's table, setting the bowl of soup down next to his elbow. "...Hey, Sans. Time to eat?" It looks like--a relatively peaceful nap, and Lucas almost feels bad for bothering him, but he chances a very light and careful prod at one of Sans's shoulders before moving to fill a bowl for himself.

[sansational]

Sans stirs only sluggishly at first, when Lucas prods him. "mrphgl...five more minutes, bro..." It's the smell that finally rouses him properly. Strange dreams aside, the soup smells undeniably better than anything Papyrus was ever skilled enough to make. He lifts his head to stare blearily at Lucas for a moment, reaching up to rub the sleep from his eyesockets.

When his fist comes away smudged a little blue, he stares at it in faint alarm and embarrassment, before hastily looking away to scrub rather harder at his face. "hey, uh, thanks, kid. smells even better now."

Thus composed, Sans turns his full attention onto the soup. He finds himself taking a deep breath, just...holding the steam in his skull for a moment. Then dips his spoon into the soup and stares at it thoughtfully before taking a bite.

Immediately, he can tell that this is a very healthy soup. It's the sort of food he normally avoids like the plague on general principle, even here where the castle has left his options somewhat limited. But beyond just being a healthy vegetable soup, it's...

...home and warm and save and loved and it goes right down to his soul in a way that nothing else here has.

Before Sans realizes it, he's swallowed another spoonful, and another, like he hasn't eaten properly in weeks. In a very real way, he hasn't.

"...wow."

[lovetheme]

Bro...'bro'? Short for brother, almost definitely--and there's a very odd sort of squeezing feeling in Lucas's chest, for a moment, before Sans stirs and lifts his head and Lucas puts that feeling away. There is something odd and--blue? Around Sans's...eyesockets....but Sans seems visibly abashed about this, upon discovering it himself, and Lucas tries his best not to stare too much or make any comment on it.

Instead he nods a bit, stepping back. "Yes, it does. I added in a few more spices, and things..."

And then Lucas drifts away to fill his own bowl while Sans orients himself. (The thought comes unbidden, odd and sad--can skeletons cry too?)

Lucas brings a full bowl back to the table himself while Sans seems to be preparing with a first spoonful. Sitting down opposite him, Lucas can't help but...stare a bit, watching Sans swallow it. ...Sort of? Probably? It finally occurs to Lucas that he had no idea skeletons could even eat, and the first most obvious question is--well--but it doesn't seem to be falling right through Sans or anything...?

These deep and important questions of life are momentarily forgotten, however, as Sans...proceeds to scarf down another spoonful, and another, with a reaction that's--pretty intense, to say the least. Lucas blinks over his own bowl, spoon poised, expression uncertain but also faintly hopeful. That was probably a good 'wow'. ...Right?

"...Um. Is it--alright?"

[sansational]

The substance is a rather deep blue, especially visible against the white of his skull. The remnants are opaque, and almost seem more viscous than human tears might. But they've also gathered around his eyesockets the way tearstains might on a human face.

At least the soup proves a more-than-sufficient distraction from that little embarrassment, leaving Sans feeling revitalized from the dream and maybe from a great many other things, too.

It does not seem to be falling right through Sans. He puts the food in his mouth, goes through all the motions of chewing and swallowing despite, by rights, having nothing to swallow with. At which point the food just seems to...vanish from inside his mouth.

"s'good." Which is a rather significant understatement. Sans speaks around a full mouth. "almost as good as monster food. you use magic on this?"

[lovetheme]

Vanish...yes....the food really does seem to be just vanishing. But where does it all go?? Lucas has a feeling he won't be able to stop himself from asking for very long, at this rate.

But Sans's words do help put that question off for just a little longer, too. The compliments are pretty simple ones, but combined with the tone and the way Sans is continuing to scarf it all down, Lucas is already turning a bit pink at the praise.

"Oh...then, I'm glad. That it's good." Good as monster food? That's probably a pretty good thing indeed, if Sans is comparing it to food from his own home. But--wait--and Lucas pauses, looking faintly confused. "Magic, though? ...I'm not sure? Just--vegetables mostly. And some spices I found in the cupboard...?"

He wasn't actively trying to make anything particularly extraordinary, at any rate. Unless magic is something that can accidentally end up in food you cook, sometimes--even PSI magic? Maybe...

[sansational]

Sans doesn't speak again until he has the bowl half-empty. He certainly feels energized enough to explain, but on the other hand, it's really good soup.

"monster food isn't like human food. it's..." He waves his spoon in the air, as though trying to tease the thoughts in his skull. "...less physical. like we are. a lot more magic and energy. you don't even have to go through all of that mess with digesting it, either." Which Sans can only see as an upside. A stomach just seems like a lot of dead weight and mess, to him.

"and that should be okay for you guys to eat, but...all the food here is human food. we can eat it, since we have to, but it's...not as good." He, at least, has to use some magic to even make it possible to digest, which results in a much smaller return on energy.

Tapping the spoon idly against his skull, now, he regards Lucas thoughtfully. "i don't think you'd need to deliberately do anything. monsters with healing magic don't need to, uh, heal the food, or anything. it's just...something about you." He gestures at Lucas, before smiling faintly.

"though, uh, the fact that your mom taught you this...might make a difference, too. emotion and intentions mean a lot, to us. usually for worse. sometimes for better." Good memories were as good as a fine spice. Even sad ones could add their own sort of flavor.

[lovetheme]

Lucas listens with visible, focused interest as Sans begins to explain how 'monster food' apparently isn't just a term for food from home, for him. A different kind of food altogether, apparently--magical food. For monsters, who are...magical beings, he supposes? That makes sense. And no need to digest would finally sort of explain Sans's apparent knack for making food vanish upon ingestion despite his obvious hollow skeleton status.

Apparently magic food can be made on accident, too, which is news to Lucas; his expression shifts from interest to surprise, as Sans goes on. Just--'something about him'? He is pretty good at healing skills, he guesses, but...

Sans mentions Mom, and Lucas pauses, before finally dropping his stare down from Sans to his bowl instead. He's quiet for a second or so after Sans finishes speaking, in favor of finally trying a spoonful of the soup for himself.

--It tastes...alright. Like a perfectly average sort of soup.

"...Mom's soup was even better. Not--sure I'll ever be able to make it quite the same." But Lucas does look back up at Sans, with a very small smile. "But...that does make sense. If that's how it is for monsters. ...If it's really good for you, it's definitely doing its job. So, that's--that's really good to hear. That it helps so much."

[sansational]

"it does. thanks, kid. and...thanks for talking to me." He offers what is, for Sans, a tiny smile in return. It's plain to him that this was not an easy conversation for either of them. But from where he's sitting, it feels like it helped him. At the least, it feels like it worked a few metaphorical knots out of his head.

Still, it looks as though Lucas still has a few more difficult thoughts to wrestle with. And so Sans is quiet, but for a fair amount of appreciative slurping, as he finishes up his bowl.

By which point, he's thought of something else to ask, at least after he wipes off his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

"do, uh...do you think you could make some for my brother, sometime? he calls himself 's-4', here, instead of papyrus. but in the time he comes from, he's still kind of a babybones and he wasn't really getting enough to eat." Not the sort of food that a growing monster should be getting, at least. Even an artificially grown monster. "i've been trying to fix that, but like i said - most of the food here isn't that great for us anyway. doesn't stick like it should. or, hey, if you're busy, maybe you can teach me how to make it?"

[lovetheme]

"You're welcome." He can pick up on the small smile, there, and that's appreciated too; at any rate, it seems that they've both come out of this very unexpected conversation for the mostly better. Lucas shrugs a little. "--It was nice. Being able to talk about it. ...Haven't for awhile..."

Even if it had only been this bit--even if neither of them had really gotten into the details of everything. But knowing there is somebody else here, that does sort of understand--even if he found out on accident, mostly--it's still...nice. A little less lonely, maybe.

Which isn't to say that Lucas isn't still somewhat preoccupied, with some things...but Sans lets the quiet settle, and Lucas uses it to move those thoughts aside for awhile. Sans's slurping is joined by Lucas's much quieter and more careful ones, for awhile, and by the time Sans does speak up again Lucas looks up with a considerably cleared expression.

--Though--wiping his mouth like that...ah....Lucas stares at the unfortunate sleeve for a moment, wondering if maybe he should have dug up some napkins after all. (Sans isn't much for table manners, it seems...) But that's soon forgotten, as Sans asks his question. Lucas blinks, surprised.

"For your brother?" For Papyrus, then--the other Papyrus, right...or, S-4, as Sans goes on to clarify. Lucas nods quickly, perking up just a bit. "Oh, sure...I wouldn't mind at all. I'm, actually, not very busy usually..." There isn't a lot to do, in the castle, and Lucas has whiled away a lot of time just trying to explore and--more fruitlessly, lately--maybe find a way to someplace else. This confession is somewhat sheepish. "But, if you can't find me or you're in a hurry--I could tell you how to make it too, yes. Then you can make it for yourself and anybody else too, if you want."

[sansational]

Sans gives this offer some due consideration. On the one hand, for all that Lucas seems mildly unimpressed with his own efforts, Sans isn't at all certain he would be able to do better. His cooking skills are limited and specific.

On the other hand, thinking back to his experiment with the hot dogs, S-4 had reacted better than anyone else. There were a lot of potential reasons for that - food made by a monster for a monster was monster food by most definitions, and their souls were very similar. But mostly, Sans wondered if that same effect might make soup for his brother especially as effective if it came from him. At the least, it could make up the difference.

"y'know, why don't you? this is kind of an unpredictable place, after all. good to be prepared, right?" He goes rummaging in one pocket, only to pull his hand back sharply as the contents squeak. Whoops, wrong pocket.

Fortunately, the other pocket turns up his notebook and pen.