The reek of the junk pit clung to my clothing and followed me as I pursued Napstablook, who was either hardwired to believe he had somehow embarrassed himself by chasing away the mad dummy, or desperately needing an excuse to avoid me. Maybe ghosts still carried their sense of smell in the sort-of-afterlife, and that's why he felt the need to distance himself so quickly. Either way, I wasn't about to let Grey slip away. Traveling with that monster kid must've made me soft, 'cause I had no intention of pressing onward alone. Or without at least chatting up one of about three people who wasn't actively looking forward to slaughtering me.

"Grey, do I need to run around wearing a friggin' billboard or something? WAIT UP!"

That finally got the self-loathing ghost's attention. He slowed to a halt and turned warily to face me, and I stopped a few paces in front of him, panting. "Huh? Are you not still mad at me?"

Goddamn, even when I'm not angry with people they think I look pissed. "Dude, I'd need a reason to be mad the first time for there to be a 'still.'"

He cocked his head to the side, giving me a stare more clueless than a detective stuck at square one. "But I thought..."

"Don't really give a damn about what you thought just happened. That freak and I weren't screwing around all buddy-buddy, he was trying to slaughter me!"

A faint look of realization broke across his face. "O-oh. Sorry about that..."

I frowned. "Why are you sorry? You're the one who got me out of that mess, with those badass acid tears of yours."

"I-I did?"

"Yep."

"Oh."

'Oh' indeed. "So yeah. Bottom line is, I'm not mad at you." Just everyone else. Consider yourself lucky.

"Okay."

With the largest elephant in the room addressed, Grey and I quickly ran out of things to talk about, leaving a heavy, dead silence hanging between us like a corpse. He bobbed up and down absentmindedly, slowly drifting away as if being carried by some invisible current, refusing to make eye contact with anything but the floor. While he was silently willing himself to disappear, I was silently willing my brain to stop screaming useless thoughts and commands from in my head. Fighting the urges that I had nearly surrendered to moments before.

"...My house is just up ahead, not like you'd want to stop over..." Grey said at last, just as the rhythmic tapping of my own feet had begun to drive me insane. "...Just thought I'd offer..."

"Uh...sure," I replied with equal confidence, my own voice surprising me. "Guess I've got nothing better to do right now." Aside from dying, of course.

Grey acted beyond surprised to hear me agree to follow him. "O-oh, seriously?" I nodded, and his face lit up. "Alright...follow me then..."

"Lead the way, airhead."

We didn't have to go very far, only a few paces from where we started. I figured a house crammed into a close-quarters cave like this would be like an animal making its home out of a shallow hole in a tree, a pretty pathetic image in my mind.

Couldn't have been more right.

Grey's house was begging for some destructive force to come put it out of its own misery. It was embarrassingly small, but stood so close against the low hanging ceiling that it almost appeared tall, having to slouch over just to avoid scraping it, as if hanging its head in misery of its own incompetence. There was only a single round window and one door gracing its cracked, chaffing, sickly blue surface, and the rest was left barren. Pathetic was the only word I could use to describe it. A pathetic excuse for a place to call home.

And still pretty damn impressive for a ghost. Why does he even need a door?

The only thing I could compliment was the lack of any annoying company, with only one neighboring house, left in an even sorrier state. Nearly identical aside from its pink color, it appeared as vacant as the space inside Papyrus' skull, its window shattered with no light coming from inside. Ironically, it seemed more fit to be the living quarters of a ghost.

"At least you don't have to deal with any annoying neighbors, right?" I asked Grey, but he had already moved inside the slightly more inhabitable home. I stopped outside and rested my hand on the worn brass doorknob for a minute, debating whether or not it was actually worth entering. Eh, I've seen worse in the ghetto, anyways.

As if it were even possible, the inside of Grey's humble abode was in even worse condition than the outside. I had to watch my step just to avoid falling through the splintering wood floor, which was left nearly in shambles. There was only one lonely room to make up the entire property, and half of it was empty space, anyway. A fridge, TV set that looked like it was ripped straight from the nineties, and a desktop computer more ancient than the grime-covered cobwebs lining the corners of the wall took up the other half. As I took a few steps into the foyer, the musky sent of Grey's lovely abode infiltrated my senses, I choked on a sharp inhale of dust, and the lack of any bathroom made me realize for the first time how badly I had to take a leak.

God damn, I think I've been holding it since the first fall...

"Oh, you really came..." Grey's voice floated over, and I noticed him for the first time hovering over his cluttered desktop with a pair of headphones strung over his head. I didn't bother asking for any explanation as to how he kept them on, or the seemingly infinite pile of CD cases sitting beside his computer. "Sorry, I...wasn't expecting that."

"And miss hanging out at such a...sick pad like this one? Like I said, don't have anything better do, anyway." I fought the unwavering, powerful urges of my bladder to leave, knowing that ditching Grey at this point would probably shatter any fiber of spirit he had left in him for good. "So...whaddya do around here?" When you're not self-loathing, that is.

"W-well...I guess, well sometimes I...you know..."

"Take your sweet time, Grey, I'll just sit here collecting dust," I said, making my way over to the ghost. His monitor was on (honestly, I was surprised the damn thing could still run at all) displaying what seemed to be...some sort of music sharing website. That explains the mountain of CDs on his desk.

Grey recoiled at my comment as if getting slugged across the face...if that were even possible. He turned away and started shaking uncontrollably, letting out disheveled moans under his breath.

"Dude, c'mon," I rolled my eyes, having regretted opening my mouth at all. Talking to Napstablook was like balancing a balloon on the tip of a needle, where the slightest provocation tipped him off balance and threatened to pop him. I'll have to be careful what I say to him...

...What am I still doing here, again?

"S-sorry...not used to company, is all," Grey stuttered, regaining about as much of his composure as he began with.

"I take it you've got a thing for music?" I tentatively plucked the top CD from the pile, but no amount of fidelity could've save the next twenty or so from toppling to the floor like a Jenga tower. "Uh...I'll pick those up later."

Napstablook sighed. "I-it's fine, I'll get them when you leave...just watch your step."

I nodded awkwardly, taking a peek at the label taped across the CD cover. It read "spooktunes," exactly what you would expect a ghost would listen too. "A classic spooktune...they don't make songs like this anymore," Grey whispered over my shoulder. I noticed the disk drive of his computer was already open, as if it had been waiting for me to pop in the CD since I had arrived.

"Guess it couldn't be that...bad." I tentatively slid the disk into place and closed the drive.

What the living hell is this sorry excuse for white noise assaulting my eardrums?

The notes chugging out of the already muffled speakers on Grey's computer sounded as though they had already been torn and gutted like a wounded animal, left to rot in a puddle of their own blood, now begging for the release of death. Only one "instrument" accompanied the silence, something that sounded along the lines of an auto tuned fart, looping the same two measures on what sounded like an infinite loop. With no variation, the song droned on, like a dog chasing its own tail. Every second I stood there, mind gone blank, feeling the skin of my face steadily pinch tighter and tighter together in disgust, was another second I realized how perfectly the song complemented the tone of the house.

"Thank god they don't make songs like this anymore. I'd even take the top hundred chart over this..." I muttered, not really caring whether Grey could hear me or not. It didn't look like that would be an issue, since he seemed totally lost in the spooktunes. An almost tranquil expression had taken over his face, as if he were relaxing in a hot spring, and not listening to the most unfortunate sequence of sounds ever strung together. His eyes were closed, so I didn't bother to hide my smirk. "Guess everyone has their own tastes. And some people get a kick out of eating shit."

I decided to let the song play for another minute or so, to commemorate the first time I had ever seen Napstablook taking a fraction of a second to worry about something other than whatever mistake he had made moments before. Then I reached over and peeled one of the ear muffs off his head, finding it was solid. "You got a bathroom around here, Grey?"

He blinked. "A...bath...room-"

"Never mind," I interjected, wandering as far away from the computer, and spooktunes, as possible.

A moment later, Grey snickered at me, out of all the things he could've done. "...Why would a ghost need a bathroom...?"

"Look, I don't know every single rule of ghosthood, or whatever!" I worried my slight overreaction would push Grey back into an over apologetic state, but he only flinched a little, keeping the small smile. "You clearly have a fridge, meaning that you must eat something. Has to come out somewhere."

"...Actually, that fridge hasn't been plugged in for a long time," Grey explained, cracking a small smile. "I just haven't had the time to get rid of it. Nothing but...ghost sandwiches in there now..."

I stared at him as if he had suddenly grown a pair of arms. "Was that a joke? From you, Grey?"

"...I-I dunno, did it really sound like one?"

That nearly got me bent over laughing, a sound I doubted had ever graced the confines of Grey's home. Even he joined in with a giggle or two. "I knew you'd come around."

He shrank away, just a little bit, at the encouragement. "I-I guess it beats lying on the ground and feeling like garbage."

We stood around listening to the ear-bleedingly bad spook tunes for longer than my remaining sanity would allow, until I carefully asked Grey if there were literally anything else we could be doing. He thought about it for a second, deciding he wanted to show me something, then led me out from the dusty old house and back into the older, dustier caverns outside. We kept moving a short way past the decrepit neighboring house, until Grey came to a stop in front of a rickety fence that barely came up above my shins.

"Welcome to the Blook family snail farm," Grey announced with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

I couldn't blame him. Even "farm" was too glorious a title for the ten square feet of fence holding in its captives, a mere three snails total. The first was normal, a bleak brown shell sitting on top of a little slime ball. The middle snail had a long nose that stuck out awkwardly from its faceless features, and it was the only one to turn what I assumed to be its head towards us as we stared. The last one was missing its shell and had shriveled up like a prune in the sun.

"It's...uh...it's certainly a thing that exists," I said, leaning a little too hard on the fence that could only keep a snail in check. The damn thing nearly cracked like a piece of driftwood.

"...Yeah, it's seen better days." Napstablook looked vacantly out over the pitiful display and let out a sigh. "I'm the only employee left anymore. This place used to get a lot of business...but our main customer disappeared one day, now it's just some hairy guy that shows up once a month..."

"You said 'family'..."

"H-Huh?!"

I could've sworn the long-nosed snail had tilted its head curiously at Grey's surprise. "You said 'family' farm, but...I'm not seeing anyone else around."

"Uh...well...see...uh...yeah...that...hmm..."

"You ever heard of the saying, 'I just don't want to talk about it?'" I asked, shrugging. "It's fine man, I don't care to chat about my family, either."

"Oh. Okay." Another awkward silence manifested itself while the snails slithered around in their own slime, an act almost as exciting as watching paint dry. I wondered how Napstablook could tolerate living in a place like this, alone, with nothing but a few salty old snails to keep as company. Unless that's what he prefers. Needing to escape from the world for awhile, I get, but staying this isolated, a short stroll away from a massive trash-heap? Why bother existing at all...

"Do you want to play a game?" the ghost asked quietly, sounding bored of his own snail farm.

I frowned at the suggestion. "Depends on what you had in mind. I'll pass if it's checkers."

Grey floated further down the path headed behind the initial pen up to an identical looking fence that I had neglected to notice before. The only differences were its contents: three new snails - one red, one yellow, and one blue - that appeared a lot more lively than the other set, and a black and white checkerboard pattern that ran across the ground on either end of the pen. "What, are the snails driving go-karts?"

"It's called Thundersnail," Grey began. "The snails race, and if the yellow snail wins, you win. It's ten gold to play."

"So let me get this straight...for your dying family business, you put the ugly old snails front and center on the property, and swept the exciting part that could actually turn a profit under the table like a moldy sandwich?" I inquired. I meant it as more of a suggestion than a hostility, but knowing Grey, I figured it wouldn't matter to him. Whatever the intention, it was almost guaranteed he would take it the wrong way.

"O-oh, yeah, you're right. I should...maybe...fix that..."

Well never mind, then.

"Whatever, I'll play. Assuming my life insurance funds will allow it." I pulled out of a couple of gold coins from my back pocket, immediately recognizing how stupid it was to waste money on some back-alley carnival game, but handed them over to Grey anyway. The prospect of winning more money in return for my bet was too good to pass up, and my chances were guaranteed to be at least one in three. Pretty good odds. Can't wait to watch those hopes shatter into a million fragments.

Grey took the coins, by which I mean they floated awkwardly to the center of his body and...just sort of hung out there, then turned his attention to the race course. "Remember, you're rooting for the yellow snail," he reminded me. "The trick is to give her just enough encouragement to win."

I smirked at him. "Givin' me advice? Shouldn't you want me to lose?" He stared back at me blankly. "You know, so you can...keep the money?" No reaction.

"Why would I want my friend to lose?"

Please don't do this to me. "N-no reason. Lets start the race," I insisted, throwing my hands over the fence, more gently than before to keep it from crashing to the ground. The three snails willingly took their places without even the slightest hesitation, proof that Napstablook had at least some vague idea of what he was doing with his snail farm business. I peered closely at the competitors, then the course itself, scanning for some kind of hidden advantage that could push the yellow snail to victory, but the track stayed completely level throughout, and each snail appeared identical aside from their colors. So this really is a total crap-shoot. How the hell would a snail even notice it's being cheered on?

"Three..." read Napstablook, with about as much enthusiasm as an underpaid, part time employee at a fast food "restaurant." I curled my arms under my chin and rested myself over the edge of the fence lazily, prepared for a long waste of time. "Two...One...Go..."

At the oddly fitting unenthusiastic introduction, the snails took off at the lightning fast speed of a glob of molasses rolling down the side of a frying pan. The gnawing pace of the competition accompanied by the lack of any audience sucked any excitement from the air like a wet sponge. I had only been watching for about ten seconds before I felt my interest fading, even though Grey seemed totally content watching them shuffle along the ground, leaving a thin trail of slime behind them.

Should've called this game Blundersnail. It wasn't until I noticed the yellow snail beginning to fall behind that I remembered my bet.

"C'mon, pick up the pace," I murmured through my teeth, lifting my head up. The snail peered over at me for a brief moment, as if it could understand my urges, and began moving again with a little more hustle. That didn't stop the red snail from pulling even further out in front of the pack. Did Grey rig the damn bet? "Move, dammit!"

My runner put its full attention on me, the slime dripping down its body glistening like a nervous sweat. I narrowed my eyebrows, slapping the fence in frustration and gesturing wildly towards the finish line with other hand. "What, are you on break or something? I've seen three-legged turtles go faster than you!"

That got the dignified slug chugging along at a better pace, but the effort proved too little too late. Even as it overtook its blue equivalent, the red snail remained so far ahead that the competition meant next to nothing. Although I had thought I accepted the very possible outcome of throwing my money away, hot blood began to flush in my cheeks anyway. "Finish line's dead ahead, asshole!"

Instead of motivating itself to go any further, my last comment made the snail pull back into its shell and roll over on its side in dirt and defeat. I sighed as the front runner crossed the finish line, noticing Napstablook's wide-eyed look of genuine concern for the first time. "You...you can have your money back, if you want..."

"No, it's alright, really," I insisted, unable to quell the remaining anger in my voice. I sucked in a deep breath and took another look around at the dusty surroundings. He could probably use the cash more anyway.

"...No, I think you should take it back." Grey offered the coins to me for a second time. "You would use it better..."

"I lost fair and square, Grey. The money's yours."

"But-"

"-Just take it, you're farm's already gone to shit. Rejecting profits is the dumbest thing you could do, airhead."

That left Grey very quiet for a few moments, as the snails struggled back to their starting positions like a fat man struggling through a revolving door. I was sure I had won the argument, that I had convinced the ghost to accept the coin he had earned himself.

Until he forced the coins out from his wisp of a body, letting them drop on the floor with a series of heavy clangs. "But I don't want you to die."

His words spilled over me like a river of blood - thick, warm, and sickening. The track and the farm and the ghost disappeared, vanished into thin air, and I was left totally alone. I lay on the ground, unarmed and defenseless, the only sound my heart beating in my ears, matched with heavy footsteps, drawing closer. Louder and closer. My body convulsed and shook rapidly, a leaf caught in a hurricane, but refused to move. Each limb felt heavy and broken, crying out for help. Moments that felt like hours passed, and a spear point tore through the center of my chest, easily as a knife through paper.

But at least someone will care.

I blinked the thought away, and I was back by the racetrack with Napstablook, as if nothing had changed at all. Everything seemed more blurry than before, shimmering as if underwater, and something wet was dripping down the side of my cheek, a mystery that wasn't all that hard to solve.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry..." Grey whined.

I smeared the tear across my sleeve. "I don't cry," I said, even with the proof of droplets that remained on my face, and the uncertainty hiding in my voice.

Grey hung his head low. "Are you scared? Is that why you decided to waste your time here with me?"

Damn. "...Guess you've got me all figured out, Grey." I thought back to that horrid night, overlooking Ebott City, leaning over the pit that was supposed to rip me from all my troubles. "God, I thought I was ready..." I continued, biting back a sob. My instincts told me to quit, there was no need to force my heavy baggage onto Grey's shoulders, but like a ball rolling off a cliff, I couldn't stop. "I thought I wanted it to end. God dammit, Grey, I was so damn stupid..."

An uneasiness bubbled between the two of us, accompanying the feeling in my stomach perfectly. I shuddered, pulling my arms to my chest, wishing I could vanish as easily as the spirit floating before me. Why am I telling him all of this? What the hell am I even doing here?

"I-I've never been very good at pep talks, but...I'll give it a shot," Napstablook interrupted the silence. I glanced up at him, refusing to move, as he turned his gaze away from me, as if the words he were looking for would be engraved in the stone beside him. "When we first met...i-in the Ruins, y-you...you had this, uh, this look, in your eye, this...spark."

I stared at Grey, now curious to see where he was going with his speech. "I-I, hadn't seen anything like it, in anyone. Not for a long time, anyway..." He spun towards me, eyes wide with excitement. "B-but it was there! I tried to ignore it...I-I had wanted you to leave me alone...until we started talking. The way you spoke and held yourself, plus that spark in your eye...it made me feel like nothing could ever stop you. That no pain, no matter how intense, could drag you to a halt." He nodded to my dumbfounded form. "And I think you've felt that too, you've just forgotten it. If...um...if that makes any sense."

His words churned in my head, only serving to confuse me at first. Slowly but surely, though, they began to fit snugly into place, becoming the sole thing that had made sense to me in the longest time. Working as if on their own accord, my hands dug through my pockets until they wrapped around something small and smooth. I pulled it out, finding myself staring at the jar that held the snowman piece given to me...forever ago. Despite the journey I had made, with more than a few small bumps in the road, the glass held a sturdy and polished composure, but what really caught my eye were its contents. Every single glistening white crystal was as it had been all that time ago, in flawless condition, unperturbed by the hardships they had faced. So persistent...

A word popped into my mind. A very familiar word, yet it felt somehow distant, almost a dream. Determination.

"Thanks, Napstablook," I said, heaving out a breath of...something. Relief? Anxiety? I didn't know, and was frankly far past the point of caring. I narrowed my eyes, wiped the last remnants of my tears from my face, replaced the jar in my pocket, cracked my knuckles, and looked up at the ghost. "If that's everything, then I'll be on my merry little way. 'Bout to go roll some damn heads."

Grey smiled. "There's that spark." He hesitated for a moment. "H-hey...if you're ever in the area again, there's this...show I like to watch. We should...er, we could-"

"-Definitely," I nodded, even though I was confident I wouldn't be coming back. The idea of waving the ghost behind for good weighed on me as I turned to leave, but I knew staying around Waterfall wasn't an option. At some point or another, I would have to confront Undyne head-on. And more likely than not, only one of us would be able to leave alive. Whatever happens, I'm through with running.

A few moments later and I had set out on a path away from Napstablook's farm, a new feeling rippling in my chest and motivating the rest of my body forward, each step carrying myself further than the last.

"H-hey! You forgot to take the gold back!" I heard him call out.

I looked over my shoulder at him and smiled. "Don't need it."