"but i'm not." Sans-Serif hiccups faintly, then shakes his head. "i'm not. n-not without my brother." He's not tough, he's not brave, he's not anything without S-4. Or at least, he's nothing that he wants to be.
But despite his spoken doubts, the little skeleton struggles to stay as still as his counterpart, presses both hands tightly against his mouth as though to physically stop the sobs from escaping. Even if it makes his shoulders shake with the effort, it's a little more still. Perversely, perhaps, he freezes entirely when Neil pulls the saw out, even if it's the sort of stillness that can only be borne of real terror. But it's also not the first time he's been told to hold still while someone in a lab coat pulls out one of those. They never meant to hurt him when they did, of course not. Hurting just...happened. Hurting was necessary so the job could get done.
Fortunately for Neil, and fortunately for both skeletons, the strings split easily beneath the blade, parting easily with sharp "twang" sounds that are somehow audible over the whirring. With the doll holding steady against Sans-Serif's initial attempts to scramble away, with Sans-Serif motionless from terror, most of the connecting threads will be easily accessible without having to risk bringing the saw too near to one or the other.
The last one that might be harder to access joins at the elbow of the arm on the opposite side from where Neil is standing. The doll tugs forcibly to bring the other skeleton's arm up - and, unfortunately, he tugs so forcibly that the arm comes off, clattering pathetically against the floor. Sans-Serif whimpers faintly to see it, half-reaches out to try and pull it back. Then he takes another look up at the blank-faced other skeleton, and seems to think better of it. Instead, he scrambles gracelessly back up to his feet, presses his remaining hand tightly over the empty socket, and takes several stumbling steps backwards. The doll, meanwhile, waits patiently for Neil to cut the last thread.
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But despite his spoken doubts, the little skeleton struggles to stay as still as his counterpart, presses both hands tightly against his mouth as though to physically stop the sobs from escaping. Even if it makes his shoulders shake with the effort, it's a little more still. Perversely, perhaps, he freezes entirely when Neil pulls the saw out, even if it's the sort of stillness that can only be borne of real terror. But it's also not the first time he's been told to hold still while someone in a lab coat pulls out one of those. They never meant to hurt him when they did, of course not. Hurting just...happened. Hurting was necessary so the job could get done.
Fortunately for Neil, and fortunately for both skeletons, the strings split easily beneath the blade, parting easily with sharp "twang" sounds that are somehow audible over the whirring. With the doll holding steady against Sans-Serif's initial attempts to scramble away, with Sans-Serif motionless from terror, most of the connecting threads will be easily accessible without having to risk bringing the saw too near to one or the other.
The last one that might be harder to access joins at the elbow of the arm on the opposite side from where Neil is standing. The doll tugs forcibly to bring the other skeleton's arm up - and, unfortunately, he tugs so forcibly that the arm comes off, clattering pathetically against the floor. Sans-Serif whimpers faintly to see it, half-reaches out to try and pull it back. Then he takes another look up at the blank-faced other skeleton, and seems to think better of it. Instead, he scrambles gracelessly back up to his feet, presses his remaining hand tightly over the empty socket, and takes several stumbling steps backwards. The doll, meanwhile, waits patiently for Neil to cut the last thread.