Sans goes entirely still when he feels S-4 moving closer to him. He has to resist the urge to flinch again when his brother touches him. Too late, he realizes the mistake he'd made, he realizes that he'd slipped up at exactly the last minute. In the privacy of his own skull, Sans calls himself a few rather unpleasant names.
For a moment, he considers brushing off the question again. It's nothing, he just moved wrong, he's sore from working so hard, he's okay...
...the words are already lining up in his mouth, and with a supreme effort of will, Sans clenches his teeth tightly until he's sure they've been well and truly held back. Only then does he look up at his brother with an apologetic smile, moving to safely cradle the injured arm against his chest.
"i know you're tired. and it's not like this is, um, that important of a thing," He's stomached the pain for over three days already, now. If it's going to kill him, it's not going to happen soon. "but, uh...when you're feeling up to it..." He sighs softly, bowing his head and staring down at his lap in embarrassment. "...i think i need some healing."
That is probably an understatement at this point, and even Sans knows it. But for now, he simply sits back against the chair instead, and gingerly goes to work rolling up the sleeve covering his injured arm. The humerus beneath has been neatly bandaged with gauze and tape, freshly changed this morning in what has already become a habit. Sans stares at it, so that he doesn't have to look up at S-4. Even so, despite his casual words, his expression remains faintly troubled despite himself. It's the first time in a while he's stopped to consider this as a wound that could even possibly be healed, and that is one more sobering thought among many.
"...sorry," he murmurs. "i know you're tired. didn't wanna bother you with this until later."
But no one ever said that honesty was easy, he supposes.
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Date: 2016-03-17 05:47 pm (UTC)For a moment, he considers brushing off the question again. It's nothing, he just moved wrong, he's sore from working so hard, he's okay...
...the words are already lining up in his mouth, and with a supreme effort of will, Sans clenches his teeth tightly until he's sure they've been well and truly held back. Only then does he look up at his brother with an apologetic smile, moving to safely cradle the injured arm against his chest.
"i know you're tired. and it's not like this is, um, that important of a thing," He's stomached the pain for over three days already, now. If it's going to kill him, it's not going to happen soon. "but, uh...when you're feeling up to it..." He sighs softly, bowing his head and staring down at his lap in embarrassment. "...i think i need some healing."
That is probably an understatement at this point, and even Sans knows it. But for now, he simply sits back against the chair instead, and gingerly goes to work rolling up the sleeve covering his injured arm. The humerus beneath has been neatly bandaged with gauze and tape, freshly changed this morning in what has already become a habit. Sans stares at it, so that he doesn't have to look up at S-4. Even so, despite his casual words, his expression remains faintly troubled despite himself. It's the first time in a while he's stopped to consider this as a wound that could even possibly be healed, and that is one more sobering thought among many.
"...sorry," he murmurs. "i know you're tired. didn't wanna bother you with this until later."
But no one ever said that honesty was easy, he supposes.