Everyone was right where she left them, gathered in a semicircle and chatting about their new lives on the surface. She walked straight for Sans, who was still sharing puns with Toriel by text despite standing right beside her. The skeleton looked up to tell her he was busy, but the words died in his ribcage. That look on her face…
"The legendary fartmaster requests your presence," Frisk said with a beaming smile.
"Frisk!" gasped Toriel. "Such language!"
"Uh, yeah," Sans muttered, visibly sweating, "that's, uh, pretty silly."
Even as he spoke, the short skeleton motioned for Frisk to follow him, continuing, "I mean, you've gotta get better material than that. Let's walk and talk. C'mon, I know a shortcut."
The child and the skeleton wandered out of the room together, and in an instant, they were back in the judgement hall. Sans turned around, narrowing his eyesockets, and said, "Alright, whatever you are, where's the kid?"
"Is that any way to speak to the future of monsters?" the child answered. It was Frisk's voice, but different somehow: deeper, with a slight lilt. "Of course, I don't exactly deserve that title anymore, now do I."
A blue glow came from Sans' left eye as he growled, "Let's just get to the point. Where. Is. Frisk?"
"Right in front of you," the child giggled. "I can put her on the line if you want. The truth is, this was her idea."
Before Sans could retort, Frisk's body lurched forward, her hair falling over her face. His breath caught in his nonexistent throat as the child looked up again. The coy smile was gone, replaced with one that looked like she'd eaten Papyrus' famous spaghetti and asked for seconds. But at least it was familiar.
"You okay, Frisk?" asked Sans, the light in his eye disappearing.
Frisk gasped, coughed, and shuddered, but kept on her feet and replied, "Y-yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. I hope I didn't scare you. I-I just wanted to make something new happen."
"Something new?" Sans queried. He had a ton of questions for the kid about what he'd just seen, but somehow he knew they'd have to wait. "Welp, the expression you're wearing… that's the face of somebody at her wits' end. Whaddaya wanna know?"
"Let's walk and talk," Frisk repeated.
"Sure, kid," said Sans. "Where to?"
"The lab under your house."