Summary: Can we appreciate the odd synonyms thesaurus has? Because some of them are hilarious.
Silence encompassed the darkened halls of the Star Sanses' base.
Despite the building's typical liveliness, only a single office bore the tiniest hint of natural candlelight and hushed voices. Inside laid a small, square table surrounded by four skeleton monsters: Dream, Ink, Red, and Classic.
"I... have concerns about Blue." The latter Sans started. "Recently, I've noticed him sneaking around the base at night, whispering into his phone when he thinks no one else is around, taking pictures of archived documents/battle plans, and much more- which is overall pretty un-blue-like for him."
"Yeah. I've noticed 'im doin' a whole bunch 'a questionable stuff too. Like mappin' out the buildin' like he's plannin' a heist or somethin'." Red added.
Dream hummed, pondering the information. "He's been quite not born yesterday on the lookout as of late, I agree."
"What?" Classic raised a nonexistent brow. One could see the gears turning in his skull before he hesitantly asked, "D- do you mean 'suspicious'?"
"Su-spic-ious?" The yellow-clad guardian carefully sounded out. All the while, his brows furrowed, and the corners of his teeth tipped down. "I've never heard such a strange word. Are you sure it's not fake?"
"Well, a lot 'a people know it, an' it sounds a helluva lot better than what you said," Red grumbled.
"'Not born yesterday on the lookout' is a perfectly common and understandable phrase."
"Maybe in your era."
Ink playfully nudged his fellow guardian with an elbow.
"Ooh, I think he's calling you old!" The artist chimed, snickering.
Dream huffed, crossing his arms before slumping against his seat's backrest. "Having lived six thousand four hundred and twenty-five years does not make me old."
Every pair of eyelights in the room turned to him. Their owners' faces were frozen in shock.
After a few moments, Classic blinked and said, "Uh... by normal monster standards, it kind of does."