He's tired. That's all it really is. Too goddamn tired of all of this, because it's been two years, and every third event in Wonderland has been something like this. Something that pulls the rug on everyone, makes them question everything about themselves, about the people they know, about their entire lives. Something as simple as "what if that one thing had never happened," something as complex as "here's all your worst traits made manifest." He just can't care anymore, not when Wonderland is recycling the same thing over and over and over. It doesn't even give anyone the proper recovery time. If you're gonna force something like this down someone's throat, you need to give them time afterwards, to process. To deal. To get past it.
Sans, though, has no idea what it's like to have that sort of time. He never really has. You either hit the ground running, or you just give up. And Sans is having a real hard time keeping his feet under him. Practically forgotten how they work.
Of course, nothing is over. The Shadows aren't done talking just because Sans is so done with all of this. Tim's Shadow is loud, vicious, easily talking past Tim and Sans and the weepy little Sans-shaped mess on the floor.
There's always gonna be something. Always gonna be that rug pull. You can roll your eyelights as much as you want at Wonderland rolling out all the chart-toppers for the umpteenth time. But Wonderland, if nothing else, always manages to put that extra, horrible little twist on things. A jerk of the knife.
Sans frowns slightly, and he should know better, should just--put all of this aside until the event is over and they can just talk properly, but...
"a...lex?"
"i thought they were friends? were they friends? did we just assume that? ohhhh, we're always assuming things, oh nooooo... sans, that's okay though, right? alex definitely hated us, and if someone hated us then, then it's better to just give up, right? so it's okay."
"just. shut up. everyone. my skull's killing me."
He narrows his eyesockets at Tim's shadow.
"this is stupid. it's obviously a lie. alex had the gun. he had LOVE."
Tim doesn't have...although, Sans has never actually Checked. It doesn't work that well with people who aren't from the Underground. The numbers are less...concrete.
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Sans, though, has no idea what it's like to have that sort of time. He never really has. You either hit the ground running, or you just give up. And Sans is having a real hard time keeping his feet under him. Practically forgotten how they work.
Of course, nothing is over. The Shadows aren't done talking just because Sans is so done with all of this. Tim's Shadow is loud, vicious, easily talking past Tim and Sans and the weepy little Sans-shaped mess on the floor.
There's always gonna be something. Always gonna be that rug pull. You can roll your eyelights as much as you want at Wonderland rolling out all the chart-toppers for the umpteenth time. But Wonderland, if nothing else, always manages to put that extra, horrible little twist on things. A jerk of the knife.
Sans frowns slightly, and he should know better, should just--put all of this aside until the event is over and they can just talk properly, but...
"a...lex?"
"i thought they were friends? were they friends? did we just assume that? ohhhh, we're always assuming things, oh nooooo... sans, that's okay though, right? alex definitely hated us, and if someone hated us then, then it's better to just give up, right? so it's okay."
"just. shut up. everyone. my skull's killing me."
He narrows his eyesockets at Tim's shadow.
"this is stupid. it's obviously a lie. alex had the gun. he had LOVE."
Tim doesn't have...although, Sans has never actually Checked. It doesn't work that well with people who aren't from the Underground. The numbers are less...concrete.