When your little crew nears the apartments, Sans stops you all and has everyone enter the alley just behind your building. To avoid the cameras in the lobby, he says, he'll take Undyne in through a shortcut.
You. don't get what he means, but, its probably a good idea, right?
So you and Papyrus part with them from the alley, and you shoot a last glance over your shoulder to Sans and Undyne standing face to face- or. Facing each other face to, uh, waist. Sans is pretty short.
Papyrus leads you back to the front of the building by the hand, smiling wide. You like that.
"Real happy, eh, paps?" you can't deny you sound… spaced. Softer. Than normal.
His grin turns down to you as he clicks the button for the elevator. "OF COURSE! Human, this is-! I did not think thinks could get so much better, you understand?"
"ah… not really."
"well, human, not so long ago it feels, I wouldn't have imagined where we'd be! A marvelous new human friend, my best friend and captain, and my brother, all safe in a home! And the marvelous Papyrus has two great new hobbies, and hopefully a new job soon, too!"
You chuckle. "I envy your optimism." A thought occurs. "Uh… hey. Can I ask ya something?"
A loud ding and the called elevator slides open. Papyrus pulls you in by the hand with a curious look. "Of course, my human friend!" he hits the usual button.
"just uh- where were you? before the auction?" you shrug. "you don't have to answer. Just… curious? Or."
"Sounds more like concern, my dearest human, than curiosity."
You look up at him, surprised at the accusation.
He looks- honestly, amused.
"The great Papyrus has been at a lot of places… theres not much in particular. I worked with our friend Grillby at a Human Circus for a little while! Oh, and for a while the great Papyrus worked at an amusement park! The humans found Papyrus so amazing, I was on the display! And the great Papyrus helped in an Italian kitchen! My food was so amazing they couldn't afford to keep me! and I helped an old man in his tree-cutting business!"
…you feel bad. Sounds kind of like paps has been around from the Local Freakshow to hard labor.
He seems. Happy, though? like he enjoyed the experiences. And knowing Papyrus, being marveled at, and getting to work in a kitchen and cook… you think he probably did enjoy it.
You scratch the back of your head with your free hand, and shoot a glance at him before studying the tiled floor of the elevator.
"I have not had it as bad as my brother, if that's what you mean to ask."
Papyrus' grip tightens a little around your hand- out of instinct you jerk out of his grip, and the both of you freeze up.
The elevator dings once again, and opens. Quietly, you both step off.
"Sorry."
"Don't be." Papyrus sounds tired.
"You sound more concerned than I do, pap."
"Perhaps I am, human. Perhaps."
Though you've both stepped off the elevator, neither of you has made the first step to head to the room by the time the elevator door closes.
"so do you know how bad, exactly, he's had it, then?"
"are you asking if I can tell or if I know what he's actually had?"
You hum. "I can't imagine you can't tell, paps."
When you spare another look up at him, he looks tired. Perhaps a little… upset.
"Sans does not talk about such things. I don't know the details. I just know it isn't good. I could make guesses." Hes quiet a while, and you think he might tell you some guesses he has, but he never does.
"No guesses I think I'd like." You joke. You run your hand through your hair. It catches a knot and you pull some strands loose, but barely notice. It doesn't hurt much.
"I cant imagine you'd have any id like either." is the answer you get.
You're quiet a moment, too, before finally attempting a question you've been trying to word. you still don't really know how you're going to word it until you're mouths already blurted it out. "So you haven't had any-"
As expcted, the word owners dies in your throat.
He fills it in for you. "So I haven't had any owners as bad as whatever Sans has had?" at your nod, he makes a low sound of thought somewhere in the back of a throat he doesn't actually have.
"No. No owners like that. The circus was not nice people, but they were closely monitored while we were there. The early time. I imagine we- us monsters, and the animals- would have been treated worse without the government scrutiny. The lions and tigers has too many scars from before there were humans in suits to watch the circus folk. The great Papyrus was gone before those early things faded away. mostly just labor. I'm okay."
He's holding his arm in a certain manner. A manner you don't question because, briefly, you'd seen the crack there before. You didn't know what it was- could just be a natural thing. Or a childhood injury. The way he holds the spot, you don't doubt its an injury from a previous owner.
You- want to offer him something. A hug or maybe a pat on the back or some sort of comfort, but your body can will itself to do so. Nor do you have the verbal aptitude to say something worth saying.
What's something you'd have wanted someone to say to you about your mother?
The answer to that is nothing. You didn't want anyone to say anything about that. About those days and the things that happened. About anything she didafter or still does. There was nothing to say. Nothing can change what happened and as much as anything that happened was bad, any of the pain, you don't know what would be if it were different. Cant imagine it changing. There nothing someone can say to something like that. Nothing but rehearsed words of pitty from strangers or awkward things from guilty siblings or your mothers frustrated denials, or in the beginning when she still apologized after you stopped… living with her. You dont think theres anything you'd like to hear from anyone about it.
Maybe that's not the same thing Papyrus experienced, not that you know what he experienced, but. Theres probably nothing you can say. Nothing anyone could.
You roll your shoulders back and sigh. "they'll start worrying where we are if we're much longer, paps."
"right!" the tiredness evaporates from visibility. he offers you a cheerful hand to hold.
You wince at it but he takes his hand back without even word or an expression.
"well, come on then, Human! We have a new roommate or possibly just a guest at home! We must be good hosts!"
You let Papyrus' attempts for optimisim, be them as real as he'd most likely want you to think or maybe a bit less real then you once thought, but none the less, you let yourself fall into his optimism and hope it'll easeyour lack there of.
He's right.
You'vea guest and you have to be a good host.
