Sans runs.
He runs as fast as he can, as long as he can, through the searing heat of Hotland and into the wet swamplands of waterfall. He runs until his legs finally give out - exhaustion weighing down on his fragile body. He can no longer hear the sounds of blaring alarms and the yells of angered scientists, so he allows himself this moment of rest. He rolls over onto his back and just breaths.
They are out.
They are finally free from that damned place.
Sans lays on the ground and gives a quiet, hollow laugh. He never thought that the world could be this big, this bright, this colorful; it's too much. He wants to go back, but he knows he can't. They were going to kill him! The scientist was done with him and was ready to move on. They wanted to dissect him and replace him with Papyrus!
Sans shutters.
In his arms, the toddler squirms. Papyrus had been barely awake when Sans decided to make a break for it, and now he was getting groggy. Sans bounces him a few times, his way of reassuring his tiny dependent that he is safe.
Even though that is far from the truth.
It's time to move on. Sans shifts into his blaster form, then gently maneuvers the tiny child onto his back. They have to keep moving. The Scientist has undoubtedly notified Asgore by now, and with him looking for them… Sans doesn't even want to think about it.
Sans starts into a fast canter.
Freedom is theirs -
- now what to do with it?
Snowdin, the small town at the edge of the Underground, doesn't have much. They're pretty much the forgotten, frozen wasteland of the Underground. Most of the residents are resentful rodents, and the ones who aren't are ex and current criminals. Most people who pass through tend to leave poorer and with one less limb than when the came.
So no, Snowdin doesn't have much.
But what it does have is Grillby's.
Grillby's is the nicest (and only) bar in Snowdin. They serve drinks and food at moderate prices and the place is relatively clean… well, clean enough for the people there. It's run by an owner of the same name; a blue flame monster with a distaste for most life. Of course, the place also doubles as a sort of hide out for the Underground's underground. Some would even call it a front, but Grillby never gets involved in the stuff himself. Too political for his taste.
But that doesn't mean he doesn't get some entertainment out of it.
Most of the Royal Guard's dog team come as regulars too, and the fights that break out almost always end with a death. Grillby sometimes even puts money on who's gonna kick it first, the rebel or the law. It's almost always the rebel, and if it isn't then, it is the next day.
With the wide variety of patrons that visit his bar everyday, Grillby hears a lot of gossip. Matilda's husband's infidelity, Gerson's retirement due to illness, and, of course, what everyone's been talking about, the new "residents" of Snowdin.
"I saw 'em last night, Grilbz," a drunk rabbit tells him one night. "I swear- I swear they was out nea' here."
Grillby ignores her. She is the town's worst drunk and, coincidentally, gossiper, so anything and everything she says can be assumed to be either false or exaggerated beyond recognition of the truth. Still, sometimes she comes up with a good story, so Grillby listens.
"That's wonderful news, Janette," A monster next to her says mockingly. "Did they bite your face or have you always been this ugly?"
"Now listen' here ya lil shit," Janette slurs and Grillby rolls his eyes. He had just cleaned up from a brawl yesterday, he isn't about to deal with that again tonight.
"If there is going to be a fight in my bar tonight, I don't care who starts it, I'm going to be the one to finish it," He says, slamming his hands on the bar between them. The two of them come to a begrudging truce. He sneers and goes to collect the dishes.
"I saw 'em though, honest," Janette tells him on his return. "They's just like they're sayin' they is. One minute they's dogs then the next-" She makes an over exaggerated motion with her hands, knocking over their bottle "-skeletons. How's that fo' a story?"
"That's wonderful," Grillby says, going to sweep up the mess she made. If it weren't for all the money she made him with her drinking habits, he'd have banned her a long time ago.
Though, to be honest, he has been listening to the stories of the lost pups, and it has kept his interest. There have been sightings all over Snowdin of two shape-shifting skeletons rummaging about people's trash. They'd even started breaking into people's homes, taking food and blankets but never money or anything valuable - sometimes even staying the night before being chased out by the owners. Everyone's been trying to catch the little nuisances. The Royal Guard is looking for them too, and even though most of the town thinks it's because of the break ins, Grillby knows better. The Royal Guard don't go after petty criminals or they'd be busy all the time. These kids fucked up bad somewhere down the line.
Not that it really matters to Grillby. They mostly stayed away from the center of town where there were a lot of people, so the bar had never been pilfered - and those kids better be glad they didn't touch Grillby's place. He'd burn their asses out.
At closing time, Grillby goes through his usual routine of cleaning dishes and stacking chairs. Grillby takes his time; he lives in the backrooms of his bar, so there isn't ever any need for him hurry to get home.
When he's going though his bottles he notices that he is low on Whisky. He curses silently to himself. Normally he has the stuff delivered from the capital, but when he runs out like this a quick trip to Waterfall will normally solve the issue. Grilby grumbles to himself; he loaths waterfall, and he hates late night trips even more, but he's gotta open up in the morning if he wants business to keep going.
Grillby trudges out in the cold. The town never sleeps truly sleep, though this is one of its more restful hours, with only a few late night outers, most of which are up to no good. Grillby ignores them and they ignore him back. It's a silent code that most rarely every break. He passes by several of the more run down, beaten up houses; he thinks to go to the river person for travel, but decides against it. The water is dangerous in that amount and the river person's a bit of a prick.
He is walking down the the strip leading to the entrance to Waterfall when he is spotted.
"Well look at that," A voice calls over the quiet rush of water. "The flame's out in the cold."
Grillby curses silently, then turns, "Ah yes, Ice Cap, Snowdrake," He greats the two delinquents. "Should you kids be in bed at this hour?"
The local teens. A few months back they'd formed a little gang and have been tormenting the town ever since. It was only a week ago the had "decorated" Gyftrot with forced tattoos. Grillby hides his hands in his pockets and readies a fireball just in case.
"Shouldn't you be drunk at this hour?" Snowdrake says, laughing at his own quip.
"Don't you know nobody comes through our turf at night, old man?" Ice Cap Challenges.
"Come now, Ice Cap" Grillby says, smiling sweetly. "We're practically family. After all, you're mother spends more time at my bar than she does with your father."
Probably not the best way to handle the situation, because now Ice Cap is sputtering with rage. Snowdrake holds back his friend for a moment, then flutters forward slyly.
"We can't just let you flake out on the fee," He says, grinning wildly.
"What fee?" Grillby growls.
"The fee we just made up," Ice Cap snips.
Grillby has to keep his flame in check to keep from burning out in rage, though he can't help but melt the snow beneath his feet.
"And since you in snow ted my friend," Snowdrake says, pushing himself deep into Grillby's personal space. "I think it's gonna be double."
Grillby snaps. Yanking his hands out of pockets, he singes Snowdrake with hot blue flames. He jumps back, feathers ruffled, but mostly unharmed. It was a warning shot, but he at least wanted to scare the kids, instead he seems to have only angered them.
Snowdrake and Ice Cap lunge at Grillby. He dodges their attacks and sends back one of his own. Unfortunately, the two boys have their youth on their side; they're faster and able to take more hits than Grillby. Despite all his anger and aggression, Grillby is just a bartender. Hell, the only reason he hasn't been killed yet living in Snowdin is that he owns the only functioning place that serves alcohol.
Grillby decides to cut his losses and run, tipping off Ice Cap's hat to buy him some time. They give chase but with a few twist and turns Grillby had picked up from his years in Snowdin, he manges to lose him in the town. Grillby stops to catch his breath in an alleyway, then lets loose a slew of curses.
Those brats! Those stupid brats had just made a laughing stock of him. There's no way there aren't going to be rumors popping up about this. He'll be a target for sure. If word gets out a couple of wild teens can beat him, there's no telling who else will want a piece of him?
Grillby breathes a few sharp breaths in a failing attempt to calm himself. He might can still catch up with the kids, catch them off guard. He doesn't have to dust them, just give them a few scars to write home about. As long as he can prove that nobody messes with him and gets away with it it'll be enough...
His flames die down. No. It wouldn't work. This had been happening more and more lately with him. Grillby has been attacked nine times in the past four months, and he almost always leaves without a single burn mark on his opponent. He's getting old. Soon someone's gonna get mad at him, or want something from him, or just get bored and decide that Grillby's overstayed his welcome in Snowdin.
Grillby slams his hand against the brick wall.
Dammit!
In this world it's kill or be killed, and if Grillby can't kill anymore…
Grillby's flames grow from blue to white in intensity. He burns a couple of trash bags in his display of frustration and anger. It's not much, but the small bit of mindless destruction is enough to sate his rage. Violently shoving his hands into his pockets, Grillby trudges home.
Sans pulls Papyrus close to him. It's getting colder, or maybe it was just him. Papyrus squirms away, choosing to be independent rather than warm. Sans shivers.
How long has it been since they have eaten? It's been a while now, hasn't it. What was the last thing they ate? Was it those old cinnabuns that lady threw out a week ago, or was it perhaps those bits of monster candy they found dropped in the snow. Sans tries to remember, if only to satisfy his hunger mentally.
Papyrus begins to yip, and Sans shushes him. They are staying in an abandoned house not too far outside of town where not many people live, but even so, Sans doesn't want to be heard. Papyrus growls in frustration. He's hungry too.
"not now, pap," Sans says. "we can't go out now."
Papyrus is too young to fully understand, but he does understand that he is not getting his way, and this makes him angrier. Sans knows that he's about to face a full blown fit if he doesn't do something quick.
"alright, alright," Sans says, pulling himself up. "i'll get us something."
Sans wobbles a little in his step, but quickly shifts to his quadrupedal form. He is still unsteady, but it's much better. Papyrus climbs onto his back, unsympathetic to Sans' struggle to carry the weight. Sans huffs and makes his way out the small hole in the floor.
Sans instantly regrets coming out. The cold inside had been deep and penetrating, but the cold out here is like tiny daggers ripping through his periosteum. Sans closes his eyes against the cold and pushes through. There has to be something out here to eat. He makes his way to one of the houses he knows is inhabited and begins looking through their trash. No such luck. The garbage must have been picked up before he got here, because there is nothing by the metal cans.
Sans checks from house to house, either disappointed or chased off at every turn.
When he gets a little closer to one house, though, he smells something incredible, which is odd, since he had been sure this house was empty, but the smell is so enticing that he forgets himself and goes to have a look. Sans crawls through a broken window and sneaks closer to the place emanating that enticing smell.
"Then the old geezer shows up!"
Sans stops dead in his tracks. There is laughter coming from directly up ahead. The same place that that smell is coming from. Sans' mind is fighting. He is hungry - starving, even - but after being chased, beaten and thrown out by so many monsters, he knows exactly what to expect from these people if he's caught trying to take their food. But then there's food, and his more primal instincts tell him to take the food from them, by force if necessary. Sans knows in his current state he doesn't have the energy to fight them, but even so…
He doesn't have to make the decision, though, as Papyrus makes it for him, dashing off his back towards the smell of a meal.
Sans quickly scampers after him, grabbing him by his collar bone and dragging him back away from the door.
"You guys hear somethin'?"
"I think it was rats."
Sans keeps still for a moment, waiting for the monsters in the next room to go back to their conversation. When they do, Sans lightly puts Papyrus down and whispers for him to stay put. He begrudgingly agrees, though he still looks as though he's ready to make a mad dash for the food.
Sans creeps his way into the next room. There are four boys roasting hot dogs around a fire that is contained in a small pit in the middle of the room. Sans' mouth waters involuntarily, and he slips through the door and behind a broken couch.
"So then he insults my mum and Snowy's all like, 'Back off or else.' So you know what the old man does? Fuckin' tries to burn our asses!"
There's a gasp.
"And you got out okay?" One with no arms says.
"Of course we did," Another says. "We're Snowden's finest gangsters! Ain't nobody's gonna ice us."
While they're all busy laughing (mostly out of pity) at their friend's joke, Sans creeps over to where the teens have stored their extra hot dogs. It takes graceful movement and constant watching, but he gets close enough to…
"Hey! What's that!?"
Sans looks up in horror to find that Papyrus is standing in the doorway, looking aggressive. Sans quickly darts the rest of the way forward to get to the food, but is stopped by a large bird monster.
"What'da think you're doing, wiener?"
Sans backs up, but runs right into the monster with no arms, who kicks him to the ground and holds him there, like a hunter posing for his shoot. Papyrus darts forward to help his brother, but is stopped by the other two teenagers.
"I get it," the bird says. "You're those two newbies the royal guard's lookin' for? The one's who's been stealin' around here."
Sans doesn't have the energy to shift to answer him, so he just sits there looking at him.
The bird sneers, "We go a bone to pick thieves on our terf, punk." He begins pacing. "Now, I don't know what you've done to get on the royal dog's bad side, but it's gotta be pretty big, right?" He stops inches from Sans and bends over. "And I think that dustin' two powerful baddies like you will give us all the street cred we need."
Sans leaps up and bites the teen on the nose. He jumps back in pain and Sans slips out from under the other kid's foot. He runs for Papyrus, who is able to worm his way out of the kid's grasp. Once as Papyrus is on his feet, he fires a wild blast, missing all of the monsters in the room, but leaving a sizable hole in the wall and stunning everyone silent. While they are in shock, Sans grabs Papyrus' scruff and makes a dash for the door.
"Grab 'em!"
Sans can hear the teens following him for a long time. He twists and turns through the houses, but these monsters have lived here longer than he has, and they know the streets. It take a long time, but finally Sans can no longer hear the angry, determined voices.
He leans back against a brick wall and pants. Papyrus looks around and growls, as if waiting for something to pop up for him to shoot, making too much noise in the process. Sans doesn't care at this point. He had used up the last of his energy running from those monsters. He can't go on. He can't even move!
Papyrus seems to noise his brother's distress and goes over to him. He grabs sans by the ulna and pulls, trying to get him to stand again. He whines sadly, then starts barking. Sans shushes him halfheartedly, then lays down. Sans is tired. The cold is seeping back into him and he feels sleep pulling him down…
Papyrus wines, annoyed and scampers off.
Sans' feels his heart break. His brother left him. The only thing he had the world just up and left him, and Sans doesn't even have the energy to give chase. Sans feels tears fall down his canine face, and he can't wipe away his shame in his current form.
Sans closes his eyes.
He's on the edge of unconsciousness when he feels the snows in front of his face shift. He sniffs curiously, lacking the energy to actually open his eyes and check what it is that was placed in front of his face. It smells wet and musty and… like food?
Sans' eye shoot open and he shifts his weight forward. Food! It was definatly food! Papyrus was sitting in front of his, wagging his tail. Sans wanted to cry. He tore into the food variously, sparing not even a single bite. Feeling new energy, Sans gets up and moves to Papyrus.
"where'd you find that?" He asks.
"FOLLOW!" Papyrus commands, showing Sans the way. Sans chases after his brother as quickly as he can manage on his wobbly legs. He is lead to a garbage bag, freshly thrown out and absolutely full of food. Sans tears into the bag, letting its contents spill out carelessly, breaking a few bottles in the process. He and Papyrus gorge themselves on old hamburgers, french fries and other foods that were half eaten and thrown away.
The brothers so busy eating, they didn't even notice they were being watched.
When Grillby gets home, to say that he was in a sour mood was to say that Hotland has a mild climate. He throws his coat onto a stool, kicks a chair then pours himself a drink. A strong one. This is a nightmare. He goes through half a bottle before he realizes that he had forgotten to take the trash out before the garbage man came to collect, and isn't that just the fucking cherry on top of this shit sundae of a day! He throws the bags carelessly out into the alley way by the side of his bar before sitting back down on the stool.
What is he going to do now?
The bottle is empty now and he get gets up replace it.
He can't protect himself anymore. The Underground isn't safe place for anyone, but people tend to be alright if they stay in groups, problem is Grillby's never really been a "team player". Any guild he's tried to join in the past now wants his head, and even if he did manage to find someone to protect him, he didn't have much to offer other than the bar…
And like hell he's giving that up to some sleazy lowlifes.
Grillby sighs and puts his head on the bar.
Maybe it's time to give up. Life is getting boring anyways, why even bother? It's just the same people drinking the same drinks doing the same things… there wasn't anything new, there hasn't been anything new in years …
Or maybe that was the liquor talking?
Who knows. Either way if he gives up now he'll be a laughing stock even in death. The great Grillby, got too old then gave up living.
Grillby throws away the empty bottle then steadies himself. Maybe he overdid it a bit with the alcohol. It would probably be best if he got some sleep now. It'll be hard enough getting up with the hangover he's gonna have, he doesn't need to stay up late as well. Grillby stumbles his way over to the back room door when he hears a small crash outside.
Grillby thinks to ignore it, but then remembers the danger that he's in and makes his way towards the noise. If it is those kids again he isn't sure what he'll do. Killing them was always an option, but if he didn't stand a chance before he doesn't think he'll stand much of a chance now. Still, the alcohol propels him forward.
When he opens the door, the first thing Grillby notices are his trash bags strew about across the alleyway, which is a shame, because someone'sgonna have to pick that up in the morning. The next thing he notices is two small animals digging around in the remnants of the bag. They look like a cross between dogs, cats and lizards. One is slightly bigger, presumably older. Maybe it's the mother? No, it looks young too... in fact both are very young and malnourished.
Grillby watches on in slight disgust as the animals root through his trash. The alcohol affecting his brain, Grillby thinks to call out to the little animals, thinking that they may want something better to eat than trash.
"Hey," he slurs, the two little dog-like creatures jumping in surprise. "You two hungry?"
The animals are frozen, as if trying to decide what the next best course of action to take. Grillby takes their silence as a yes and goes back into the kitchen. He doesn't have it in him to cook anything, considering that he'd currently using the bar to prop himself up, so he goes to one of the cabinets and gets a small box of crackers that he likes to put out at the bar. He goes back out into the alleyway to see that the two creatures haven't left, but are instead trying to carry the garbage away in part of the bag.
"Don't... don't… don't eat that," Grillby says, throwing the crackers to the ground, startling both pups. "Here. You don't… you don't have to… to pay. It's free."
Grillby staggers back inside and drags himself to his bed, where he immediately collapses and falls unconscious. He doesn't even remember getting there when he wakes up, the last thing he can clearly think of being him getting upset those kids humiliated him. Grillby, as expected from the exorbitant amount of alcohol he consumed last night, has one of the worst hangovers he's had all month, but he still has to open up shop.
He can't look like his loss affected him. He can't even look like he thinks he lost. His confidence would be the only thing keeping him afloat now.
His regulars start flowing in at their usual times, and Grillby serves them as usual. No one mentions what happened with the teens, so Grillby can only assume that they either haven't heard, or they are too afraid of getting kicked out to mention it. Both are good. Things seem to be going normal and smooth…
...that is until Janette arrives.
"So! Grillby!" Janette says, plopping herself as close to Grillby as she can. "How's the bruises."
Grillby sighs, "What bruises?"
"The bruises from last night's fight, silly," She says, bouncing her head to one side. "I heard it was a brutal knockout."
"Do I look like I was attacked last night?" Grillby snaps, but Janette just giggles.
"It's hard to tell under all those flames," Janette quips, before her eyes become more sinister, "You know, I'll promise not to tell anyone if you gimme a drink. Just one on the house. Whaddaya say, Grillbz?"
"I say blow me," Grillby hisses, "You'll probably just tell everyone when you're drunk anyways. Now buy something or get out!"
Janette snickers. "I'll have a bottle of Whiskey."
"Outta Whiskey," Grillby says, picking up a glass to wipe down.
"Come on, you're breaking my heart," Janette pouts, before selecting another bottle. "Ya know, you're lucky you got attacked when you did," She says after a few minutes of drinking. "'s been a loooot of crazy going on this morning."
"Oh?" Grillby says, knowing there's no point in trying to evade the conversation.
"Mmhm," She says. "Royal Guard put up a poster for those two kids they's looking for. Has a loooooot of money on it."
"How much?" Grillby says, genuinely intrigued.
Janette tells him. Grillby whistles.
"Yeah, that kinda money'll make any story seem like yesterday's news," Janette giggles.
With that kind of money, Grillby could buy the protection that he'd need. He wouldn't have to worry about a thing for the rest of his life… then again, he'd have to fight everyone in the village for a chance at the little shapeshifters, and he has no idea where to even begin looking.
Still, it's good luck that it happened on the same day as his… defeat. The town probably won't even think about him with that much cash up for grabs.
As the day goes on, people come and go. New stories surface, most of which have at least something to do with the skeleton pups. It really was a mad hunt for the dogs. Funny thing is, no one seems to know what the kids did. Not even the Royal Guard's dogs could answer when Grillby asked. It is an odd case, and something about it seems vaguely familiar, like Grillby's forgotten something in a dream.
With all the business he's attracting from bounty hunters to enthusiasts, the day goes by pretty quickly, and Grillby is closing up and kicking Janette out before he even knows it.
Grillby sweeps up and dusts the counters, does the dishes and takes out the trash. All in all, it was a good day. Not the best, but certainly better than he was expecting. Grillby opens the back door and stares at his ally way.
It's wrecked.
The trash has been torn up and strew across the entire alley way, smearing the snow with ketchup and grease. It's almost as if some wild animals…
...wild animals.
Oh...
Last night some stupid animals tore up his trash, and instead of chasing them off like Normal Grillby would have done, Drunk Grillby had the bright idea of throwing a box of crackers their way. To the animal's credit, the crackers were nowhere to be found, so at least they know how to take advantage of a fool like Grillby. Unfortunately for him, now Grillby is out of Whisky and crackers.
Grillby kicks the garbage can angrily, then proceeds to pick up the trash and throw it harshly into the proper reciprocal. He shoves in the garbage that he had originally intended to throw away and stomps back into the bar.
Other than that, the day's been great! With nothing left to do with the rest of his night, Grillby makes his way to the liquor cabinet and take inventory. There isn't much left, but he'll get his shipment tomorrow so there isn't any reason not to empty out a bottle or two.
He selects a square, blue bottle, barely paying attention to what's in it. A glass and a half later he decides to slow down, not wanting a hang over like last night. There isn't a T.V. In the bar simply because Grillby can't afford it, so with nothing to do he just sits there and thinks.
Despite the town's frenzy over the latest hunt, Grillby knows he's still in danger. Once as the monsters capture, kill or forget about the kids, he'll be next. He's like a wolf with a limp - waiting for the pack to decide he's become a burden and finish him off.
As far as he can see, he has two options now; accept his fate and die, or fight. He can't exactly fight it physically anymore, but maybe finding some protection wouldn't be such a bad idea. Grillby has money, not a lot, mind you, but enough that he could probably bribe his way into some connections. The more important he makes himself, the less likely it is that the town will turn on him.
His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his trash tipping over. Swearing, Grillby grabs a broom and prepares to chase off some wild animals...
...only to be greeted by two skeleton kids.
They are small, even for children, with noticeable breaks and cuts and bruises covering their bones. Grillby washes as they pull through the trash, and he connects the dots in his head.
The animals last night.
The wanted kids.
The skeletons...
Ah. It all makes sense now.
The smaller of the pair notices him first and pulls the larger's coat. When the other sees him, he jumps back, pulling the child behind him.
For a while, they just stare at each other, as if waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally, the older one speaks up.
"do you have any more?"
Grillby is shocked. Was the kid asking him for something? For food? The kid should be able to take it from him, if he was as strong as the rumors say.
The kid repeats himself, and Grillby slowly nods his head. He motions for the kids to follow him, and the older one picks up what Grillby assumes to be his brother.
Do they know that they are wanted - That there is a bounty on their heads? Maybe not, because they follow him right into the bar with no questions asked. Grillby doesn't take his eyes off the kids as he searches through the bar for something for them to eat. He eventually finds a half eaten bag of chips, and brings to over to the pair.
The closer he gets, the more he can smell the kids. They smell like dirt, vomit and piss. It makes him sick to his stomach, but he fights through it and places the bag on the table. The duo quickly attack it, surprising Grillby with their ravenous behavior, despite expecting it.
As the two eat, Grillby stands back and watched with a kind of sick glee. He found them! He really found them! Now all he has to is incapacitate them and deliver them up to the royal guard with a bow tied neatly around their heads and the money is his.
A man can do a lot with that kind of money
And Grillby has a few good ideas of what he'll do. First, he's going to leave this hole in the middle of nowhere, maybe head over to Hotland with the rest of the Flames, and open up a new bar. Then he's going to buy himself all the protection he could ever want. No one will mess with him again! He'll make himself a one man guild!
And all he has to do is get these kids to the guard.
"Would you like something to drink?" Grillby asks the pair of children sitting at his table in the sweetest voice he can manage. They flinch at the sound of his words. The younger child quickly nods, not shy at all about demanding things from his host, while the other holds back, seemingly aware of the older monster's plans.
Grillby ignores the skeleton and heads behind his bar. He mixes together some orange juice and tonic, adding in a powdered drug he'd confiscated from a desperate looking monster a few days ago. He returns to the children and hands them the glasses. The smaller dives right in enthusiastically, draining the glass in second, while the elder sniffs the glass cautiously. Grillby tries not to let his nervousness show, hoping that the monster he'd taken the powder from had a better taste in drugs than he did women.
Slowly, though, the older monster takes a drink from the glass, and is soon drinking with as much enthusiasm as his brother.
"MORE!" The small child cries, slamming the glass down.
The elder is mortified, quickly shushing his sibling and looking at Grillby with frightened eyes. Under any other circumstances, Grillby would have been enraged by such bratty behavior, but with what this child is worth, he can let it slide. He takes the glass to refill it, offering the same to the elder, who refused adamantly.
As Grillby is filling the glass again, he hears a thud. A sick grin spreads across his face. That worked fast.
Grillby looks from behind the counter. The older brother is hunched over his younger counterpart, who seems to have collapsed out of his chair. Grillby slowly makes his way over to the boys, sparking the blue flames in his palms. When the elder sees him approaching, he falls backwards, seemingly dizzy himself.
"Now then," Grillby says, voice smooth and pitched with glee. "You two are going to take a nice little nap, then we're going on a fun little trip." He bends over the children. "How does that sound?"
The elder glares at him, fear and panic evident in his eye sockets. Then the boy shift. It is the strangest thing Grillby has ever seen. The bones realign themselves and the boy is suddenly an animal - wolf-like and ferrial.
Grillby knew the boy could shapeshift, but is stunned by actually seeing it, and the child takes his opportunity. He opens his mouth and unleashes a blast of pure energy. If Grillby were a second too slow, he would have been incinerated, but he makes it to the ground before the beam could reach him.
Grillby looks behind him and notices in horror that there is a hole in the ceiling, burnt at the edges. How powerful are these kids?
While he is distracted, the child quickly darts to his fallen brother and grabs him by the spine. He doesn't make it far though, as he collapses not three feet from the door.
Grillby sits for a moment, dazed by the excitement, then he giggles gleefully to himself. He did it! He got them! He brought down the powerful, shapeshifting demons! He had them completely at his mercy now. Grillby brings himself to his feet slowly and brushes himself off, then he walks nonchalantly over to the collapsed pup and his brother. The creature is still conscience, glaring at him weakly. If the pup had eyes, they would be glossy right now. He makes a small, growling noise, as if trying and failing to threaten. Grillby simply bends over and picks him up by his collar bone, then scoops up the other in his free arm.
For once in his life, something seems to be going right in Grillby's world.