-Neutral-
There was a sob story behind every bullet, each name put further under the earth. Some other ramblings of a mysterious nature even. Though that wouldn't be what one thought when they looked across the bar at the two well suited skeletons. Every night settled upon the bar stools, telling outrageous stories or painful jokes at the least to each other before Grilby; the flame of his figure was usually the only illuminating them in such secluded areas of the bar.. Always accompanied by groaning, the occasional laugh. A puff of cigar smoke trailed from the short, stubbier of the two in a near constant cloud, the taller never smoked, but god could he hold a tall glass of liquor.
Then there was the lovely Mettaton… Built by the fantastical Dr. Alphys at the request of Grilby himself, Mettaton was a shapely robot, though it was his beautiful voice, rather than looks that captivated the drunken audience. Every night without fail, the majestic form would slowly walk upon the small stage, pressed to the corner, yet still in the view of all patrons. Then he would introduce himself, mention how absolutely fabulous it was to see us all there, before breaking out into song. His voice would fill the booze scented air with sounds far too sweet to be in such a rundown bar, and echo off the walls for hours on end. It was as if he never had to stop and catch his breath, though nobody was able to get close enough to ever tell that he didn't. It was all part of the mystery that was his siren like allure.
While the two were in the same room almost every night, listening or at least hearing each other's voices for hours on end, the two had never seen each other, acknowledged each other, let alone speak to each other while in that bar. Though during after hours on a dingy night, the sky flurried with rushing snow, the two met.
Papyrus entered the small building eagerly, the chill of winter temperatures caused him to shudder at the abrupt heat. The cold had overcome his entire being with it's frigid nibbles, the contrasting temperatures almost made him feel chillier for a flash of a moment. "Evening Grilby! I'll take the usual if that's alright?" The same grin he always held was held on his face, it held an irritating and foolish appearance. The heated expression of the burning monster was enough to tell how discontent he was, however he didn't dare turn down the man before him.
"How was tonight?" Grilby held a uncaring gaze as he turned, fingers wrapping tight around a beer glass. It clinked loudly against the wooden counter as the man set it down, a thick, honey colored liquid quickly to the brim. "Same old, I suppose. Pow pow here, bang and smash there, and now I'm sitting before you, ready to indulge in some of the best bar beverages in the underground!" The nonchalant tone Papyrus had caused his fires to ripple as if shuddering. The skeleton before him was well known in the area. Papyrus, the Elite Sniper for the Fallens. An interesting little organization- they were never but had already spread like wildfire in the slums of the Underground.
And it wasn't as though they had come into the community with a more metaphorical bang, they had actually intruded on the area overnight. They had just appeared, and were still considerably small. Papyrus, as mentioned, their sharp shooter, and his older brother, Sans- there was a number of theories about his exact role, most reckoned a less sharp shooter, or something to do with the financial well being of the organization. A woman named Toriel, whom he had seen a number of times, more often than not down the road purchasing foods, a motherly figure if anything. And then, the Boss? They were nothing more than a child. A child who had fallen and now took control over the lives of four people. A small potted flower was always in their arms from what he had heard. A sassy little thing.
"When do you think Sans is able to pay his tab Papyrus?" Shift the conversation- they didn't need to speak about the things that Papyrus had done and could very well do to him as well.
"He said this weekend, but you know my brother.." He did. Sans had never paid directly. His bills had racked up high enough that anyone else in the underground would have taken themselves to the void, but he would always just laugh it off. Every once and a while though the dept, every number and calculation in his tab would just- poof. Gone. He was curious, but being able to wake up to a pretty sum of money in your account was a good motivator to him keeping his lips glued shut. A scoff escaped him, before a silence took over the room, only the static of the old jukebox filled the room.
"Where is your brother tonight?"
"Who really knows, eh Grilster?" He shuddered at the nickname. there was no reason for such a lack of formality. However he left it soon at that. Better curious than waist deep in quicksand.
More silence.
This time a melodious voice broke the silence, the back room doors swinging wide as the curvacious figure strutted into the room. Hair presteen, clothing visibly woven just for him. His eyes rolled back a little at the sight of his entertainer, Mettaton, entering the bar. "If your closed for the night darling, i'll be happily making my way home." How rude, inconsiderate even. They had a guest, and the diva himself wanted to walk out on one of the most important patrons Grilby had! "Actually," He stopped the other with a single word, the other three almost unnecessary.
"There's someone I think you should meet Mettaton, they're a rather big fan."
