give the man a nobel

[voidster]

Birds are singing, flowers are blooming... and one useless old man is playing cards against another faceless (and useless) old man, outside in the gardens.

It seems the real thing has finally made peace with his double--or at least taken pity on him enough to stop ignoring him. It's wearying, carrying around all that animosity for someone who literally can't venture too far without being summoned back, and who can't help what he was created for. (To nag and nag him to murder a friend.) Life has been rough and he's... lonely, in a sense. It's good to have someone to play a game with nearby, and who has nothing better to do.

They've brought a little table and four chairs with them, on the off chance anyone wants to join. It's nice here, in the shade of a tree, sun shining through the leaves. Sit with them and wonder how in the world the rune-faced Gaster sees his cards without any eyesockets?

Comments

[aghostinthemachine]

He'll more than likely try. Papyrus is worth it.

"You two are such instigators, you know that?"

[voidster]

[Unforgivable people, aren't we, wanting to see our respective friends enjoy spending time together. While we're here.]

[aghostinthemachine]

"You are! Pressuring me to smother your son in affection."

He realizes what he's said and hides his face in his cards.

[voidster]

His real fingers drum on the table for a moment, while he's not being looked at. Clackclackclack. Hee.

Then when Mettaton does look up: [Relentlessly. The only way to make me stop is to give in.]

[aghostinthemachine]

"Gassterrr..." He whines before looking at Runester. "Are you going to let him do this to me?"

[voidster]

[Yes, of course. Haven't I been?] Hm. He doesn't have eyesockets, or teeth to grin. Something prevents his goo-body from being shaped that way. Even still, he's teasing.

[aghostinthemachine]

Mettaton just stares in disbelief. That... wasn't what he was expecting.

.. At the very least, he's won this round.

[voidster]

This time, neither of them can resist a laugh. Unfortunately their chuckling sounds like little static zaps, in stereo.

Damn whatever strange magical effect distorts his voice so much... and damn it for affecting the copy, too.

[aghostinthemachine]

So unfair. Mettaton pouts and grumbles to himself.

"I suppose I should be happy you're entertained."

[voidster]

[We're poor, bored, suffering old men, you should be.]

They're a we now, and he isn't stopping. Tsk tsk.

[aghostinthemachine]

"If it brings you happiness, I'll suffer through it," he lets out a dramatic sigh. "Should I keep you updated on the details?"

[voidster]

[Gracious.] he says, and shakes his head, grin sliding into something more like a smile. [You tell me as much or as little as you want. That it's going well is all I'd really ask about.]