"Fancy meeting you here."

A grunt was her only response, face down and hand lightly rubbing her nose from the surprise impact against the other's chest, and though she couldn't see him she could very well feel that crooked smirk of his. How a skull could mend to smiling and blinking is beyond her comprehension, but the woman has seen stranger things – talking skeletons was just one of the things she had the privilege of getting used to.

And what a lovely privilege that was.

Frisk huffed, the air making her bangs fly up and away from her eyes as she leaned on the wall, trying to press further away from Sans as possible. The bump to her nose felt now like an itch, minor against the continuing throbbing of her ankle, and she held in a hiss when testing out if it can manage her weight. It didn't, and now she had to keep her leg raised somewhat in this small space, knee bent and brushing against the skeleton's dress pants.

If she weren't so annoyed by the situation she would have complimented him on his wear.

"Nice dress."

Ah. Well. He beat her to it.

The woman slid a bit of her hair behind an ear and kept her gaze toward their only exit. "Thank you. Do you think you can open that door?"

"Mm. Nope."

She suppressed a glare and kept her tone even. "Why not?"

He tapped the heels of his dark shoes against it. "Sturdy and infused with magic. Thought you would've known that much."

"Can't you just – Oh, I don't know. Blast it open? Teleport to the other side?"

He raised a brow. Well, the rim of his eye socket raised in a way that a brow might have. If he had one. Which he didn't. And yet that movement was still infuriating without skin or hair.

Frisk was pretty sure he didn't even need to breathe, and yet his chest rose and fell as hers did. The top two buttons of his black shirt were undone. ( Why was that even a bother? ) She kept her eyes on the door.

"Honey–" Oh he did not just 'honey' her "–as much as I'd like to get out of here, and I very much do, this is a pretty strong barrier we're dealing with here."

"A barrier," she flatly said, patience running as thin as the very non-existent space between them. "On a broom closet."

"Yep. Thank your sister for that."

At the mention of Chara, Frisk's attitude shifted. The creases on her forehead that started to arrange into a small frown were smoothed over and her eyes fell.

Damn, she was so close. So close to reaching her, basically touched ( well, more deflected ) her sibling's hands but they slipped away again. Why? Why couldn't she reach her? This had been one of her opportunities to talk to her and they spent most of it running instead. Whatever Chara was planning, whatever it was that was making her cause all this ruckus, Frisk just hoped it was worth it. She was in enough trouble as it is, running from police and staying in hiding – and the moments she wasn't hiding she was brewing up rather suspicious behavior. Frisk didn't understand it, but she refused to believe her sister was a bad person.

Sans saw it differently. In fact, they might as well be in very separate teams, seeing as he wanted to bring Chara in for what she supposedly did. There was no convincing him. He truly thought...

That Chara killed...

There was just no way. Frisk refused to believe any of it. Sure, her sister had certain unlikable mannerisms, but murder?

"So," Sans' voice brought her back, and she blinked up at him, almost taken aback by just how close they've been. Though of course she had absolutely no room to actually take a step back. "What's with the stick?"

Frisk raised her hand, looking down at the object in question before sighing and dropping it. She felt the beginnings of a blush start to rise on her cheeks. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

She could hear his laughter in that word alone. More than that, she could hear the very essence of his soul – skeleton monsters had no heartbeat, but if one were to pay attention, if they were close enough...

Eyes restrained from rolling too far. "I might have made a small mistake."

Sans raised his bony hand to his chest in mocked surprise. "The perfect Frisk Dreemurr? Making a mistake?"

Her cheeks were certainly burning now. "Oh shut it. Before I pick up the stick and give it some good use."

"Like blasting the door via wizardry?" His grin widened and could very well much eat shit for all she cared as he flicked his wrist, his index and thumb digits pinched together.

"I never would have guessed Chara's magic could surpass your own, Serif."

The comment didn't seem to phase him as much as she wanted to. He shrugged, but at least that grin lessened to a degree she could tolerate. "Can't say you two weren't taught by the best."

Toriel came to mind, and so did her phone and she swiftly reached down her front to retrieve said device. Only to come up empty. Well, that's great. Not like it would have came in handy or anything.

Sans cleared his throat, most likely having seen her shove her hand between her breasts ( though it's not like he hasn't seen that before and in a much heated fashion ). "Looking for something darling?"

His voice certainly should not be making her relax, but it always had that effect. "Phone. Have one on you?"

"I think the magic would cut the signal anyway. Let's just wait 'til it wears off. Shouldn't be too hard, being this close."

What a charmer. Frisk opened her mouth to say something, even straighten up, at least make him be the one to press away – though she could hardly blame him for being tall, his back already bent forward and his skull dangerously close to touch her head – but when she put her foot down she grimaced and pulled it right back up.

Sans noticed, and his usual comic charade came to a stop, voice drooping lower as his glowing pupil inspected her. "You alright?"

"Fine."

"Obviously." He glanced at her raised foot before meeting her eyes again. "May I?"

She sighed, knowing that she might as well let him help. This wouldn't be the first ( or last ) time he'll touch her. "It really is nothing. Just sprained."

He hummed in response, bone meeting skin as he swept his fingers over the bruising area with a gentleness that brought up some rather unneeded memories. "High heels, every woman's Achilles'... heel."

"I can still grab that stick."

Sans smiled a bit wider, but he said no more, hand now glowing along with his only working eye. The one eye that Chara spared that night.

Shifting, Frisk had to grab on to his the fabric of his shirt while he continued to heal her ankle. He didn't mention it, which she appreciated, and she began to let her shoulders slump, trying to appease toward the calming side of all that's happened that night.

But she couldn't. Chara was still well in her mind, and it bothered her. It bothered her to the moon and back that she didn't know what was going on – why her sister didn't just tell her. It wouldn't be because Chara was hiding something, they told each other everything since the very start. It must be for protection. It has to be. But Frisk can handle her own, they've been trained as equals.

Which is why Frisk was the one in a broom closet with her ex and a broken foot while Chara was off free doing... whatever.

"You didn't give me a real answer."

"Hmm?"

"The stick." He was still on about that? Probably won't let her put that one down either. "Were you always carrying it around?"

He was done healing her and he let her go, the absence of his touch both a relief and a disappointment. Frisk put her foot down and tested her weight on it slowly, breathing out softly in gratitude as the pain dulled. It wasn't completely gone, but Sans was never meant to be a healer anyway. Still, it was way better than nothing.

When they moved again she took note that she was still the one with her back against the wall, Sans straightening out as much as he could with both hands on said wall behind her, as if she needed to feel more caged in as it is. She couldn't not stare back at him this time, and she would make sure to thank Toriel for teaching them a breathing exercise that controlled the beating of one's heart. Though not much could be said for the warmth on her cheeks.

"I had a... talk with my sister."

"Ever the so chatty one, she is." He was joking, but she could feel him tense up.

"She didn't hurt me–"

"That much."

"It was mostly the heel, alright?" She became defensive quickly, but not for her part. This was why they had to break it off. Whenever it came to her sister, they always started to fight. She really hoped it wouldn't happen again, but here they are, with no choice but to head on.

"Sure."

He was still not convinced, but at least he didn't take it further. Frisk won't thank him for that. Not as long as he was still after Chara.

"I fell–"

"Or she made you fall."

"...dropped the knife–"

"You were conversing with knives."

"She kicked it away when she had the chance and then ran off. I was in a hurry so I just... grabbed the first thing that came up. I tried to go after her, but... Anyways, we both ended up here."

"Wow, that is... something."

"Well, now you know. About the stick."

He said nothing, they both stayed still for a moment, but their unwavering gazes locked in a silent battle that neither back away from. Eventually, Sans sighed, the air tickled her bangs, and he leaned even yet more forward.

Frisk froze as his elbows also touched the wall, arms still encasing her as he softly bumped his skull against her head. She didn't think any breathing technique could help her at that point, ribs just barely keeping her heart from leaping out. The blush was sure to cover most of her face now, along with her ears and down to her neck.

The female spy had been in similar positions before, with him and others ( though those were not taken seriously, and were strictly kept professional ), but with him it was... it would always be different.

It made her ache.

"I'm sorry."

Really ache.

She was surprised her voice worked steadily even as it felt like the air was stuck in her throat. "For what?"

When he had spoken, his voice was low and gentle, and it sent small goosebumps through her skin, starting from her shoulders. It was unlike him to point it out and tease her.

"Just how things are right now. How they're turning out... and what happened–"

"Everyone is still in shock, no one could have seen it coming nor control it. I... am not angry at you. I'm sorry. For how I've been treating you. I just..."

"I know. You care about her."

He moved away then, saving her from suspension, and when he looked into her gaze again it sent another shiver down her spine – and not like the previous ones. His glowing eye was gone and when he spoke his voice was still low, but hinted warning.

"But someone I cared about is now gone. No one was there to see it when it happened, but all evidence points to her. Whether you agree with me or not, Frisk, I'll be hunting her down. You just pray that you can reach her before I can."

The door suddenly opened, alarmed voices rushing in with yellow light from the hall, people looking in to see a lone woman in a closet, looking out before her like someone just shattered her soul.