[For a long time, Sans doesn't say anything at all. If it weren't for the crackle of the fire, other Audentes mulling around a stone's throw away, and the mechanic hum of Mettaton's body, the moment would have been as silent as it was still.]
You wanna know what I wished for?
[There's a ruefulness to his tone -- something weary in a strange, profound, timespanning way -- as he reaches into his jacket pocket. He can still remember the lowkey panic he felt when his hoodie was taken from him in prison; more specifically, the panic of losing its contents. He withdraws his hand again, holding whatever he'd taken out close to his chest, almost as if he was protecting it.]
no subject
You wanna know what I wished for?
[There's a ruefulness to his tone -- something weary in a strange, profound, timespanning way -- as he reaches into his jacket pocket. He can still remember the lowkey panic he felt when his hoodie was taken from him in prison; more specifically, the panic of losing its contents. He withdraws his hand again, holding whatever he'd taken out close to his chest, almost as if he was protecting it.]
You so sure about that?