"Prince Asriel, you heard the car, but did you hear the driver?" Papyrus asked in his lawyer voice, the voice that tricked people into thinking he was a competent adult.
A little bleating crept into Asriel's chuckle. "No, Papyrus, my ears aren't that good."
"Are you going to try to convince us that it was one of the other cars, portaled over to make a trip?" Phoebus asked, smirking. The idea was ridiculous.
"It was Mr. Hummel's car," Papyrus said. He was smiling, but it was hard to tell; he was a skeleton, after all. He made a lawyerly flourish, sticking his bony finger up into the air. "But, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Hummel was not the one driving it!"
"Then enlighten us, who was?" the prosecutor replied, eyebrow raised.
"Nobody was!" Papyrus replied, thoroughly enjoying himself. This was the best part of his job. "It drives all by itself! Somebody told the car where to go, it's a self-driving car, not a self-directing car, I don't know who would want a self-directing car. But I do know who couldn't be seen through the tinted windows! I do know who had a monster's help breaking in! I do know who would search all the computers for 'test results', because he didn't know what to look for and thought it might be hidden on one!" he beamed, and his gaze and grin fell upon Mrs. Greenbriar. "The culprit" Papyrus really liked the word 'culprit' and resolved to say it more. "wasn't looking for your husband's data, Mrs. Greenbriar; he was looking for yours!" he said with a flourish of his other arm, his finger still sticking into the air. "The culprit was left at home with the car, while his family was out of the house! And that culprit... is YOU!" Papyrus finished, pointing directly at the Hummels' son.
Ten-year-old Richard Hummel trembled in his seat, clutching the cushion, unsure what to say. "That's... stupid!" he settled on. "I didn't do anything!"
"Don't lie," Asriel said forcefully. "I can hear you lying, and what do you think your monster friend is going to say when I ask it how it helped you get in?" Richard had no reply except to close his tear-dripping eyes, still clutching the cushion, everyone else from both families staring at him, aghast in shock. Karl's hands clenched and unclenched, but Richard's mother looked even angrier, her face beet red.
"Your application was approved," Mrs. Greenbriar said softly. "Your acceptance letter is in the mail right now." His editing attempt hadn't succeeded; she never brought her work home with her. The older Hummels' heads turned abruptly, their thoughts roiling. Richard had applied for the Donald J. Trump school and not even told them about it, then broke into the Greenbriars' house to make sure he got in, and he'd even been accepted beforehand! Richard started sobbing louder, and his parents turned to him.
Phoebus mentally kicked himself and took control of the situation, talking before the screaming could begin. "I should have realized immediately," he said loudly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hummel, but I'm going to remand this case to juvenile court. Your son is in a lot of trouble right now."
Karl and his wife tried to think up a reply, and the Greenbriars looked like they wanted to say something, but a casual, gentle voice said, "You could do that, but you don't have to" as the door opened. The speaker, an unassuming preteen girl in a striped shirt, green-glowing bracelets, and loose pants fit for bicycling, immediately commanded the attention of everyone in the room. The court reporter stopped cold. Whatever the Hummels or the Greenbriars were going to say to the prosecutor or to Papyrus died in their throats, and whatever the prosecutor was going to continue with suddenly became unimportant.
Mrs. Greenbriar gave a nod, as did her oldest son. Her twelve-year-old smiled and waved, as she'd shared some classes with the princess last school year. "Greetings, Your Highness," Papyrus said formally in his lawyer voice, and Frisk smiled at him.
"Are you going to send him to jail?" the Greenbriars' youngest kid blurted out, looking at Frisk and pointing to Richard. Kids his age often had inflated ideas of what Frisk did and didn't do.
"No, that's the prosecutor and judge's job," Frisk replied. "But the prosecutor could show mercy and let his parents handle it." Judging from the looks the Hummels were giving their son, Frisk wasn't certain if it was actually mercy or not.
"No TV, no video games, I'm locking down your phone, you're grounded for a year," Karl said abruptly, standing up and yanking his son by the arm, dragging him out of the chair. He looked at Mrs. Greenbriar, avoiding even a glance at Frisk. "After that, we'll see how well he's done in... his new school." He glanced at the Greenbriars and the prosecutor. "Is that all right with you, or should it be longer?"
"Given the circumstances, I don't see a reason to burden the court's time with this matter," Phoebus replied. This was prosecutor-speak for I am not nearly foolish enough to argue with the girl turning back time.
"That's fine, and I'm certain Her Majesty will add something appropriate," Mrs. Greenbriar replied, although she wasn't quite sure just what Toriel would do.
"I am so sorry about all this, Mr. Greenbriar, we can talk about it later," Karl apologized to his boss, and Frisk stepped aside as Karl dragged his crying son out of the room, his family following. Frisk didn't hear everything Karl was telling Richard, but it sounded like a promise of corporal if not capital punishment. Asriel did but chose not to repeat it, as his brother was mentioned more than once, right along with the possibility of instant gory death.
"WOWIE! ANOTHER CASE RESOLVED! I LOVE HAPPY ENDINGS!" Papyrus crowed.