Your senses returned alongside Bob's.

The drone sat on the couch, partially smothered between the sleeping forms of Chara and Aliza. One of its internal alarms buzzed faintly.

Administrator Connection Failed. Redirecting.

The alert was cryptic, and Bob's analysis of it was cut short by a soft, clicking noise. Its fans hummed to life as it carefully extricated itself from its snug spot. Rising into the air, its sensors refocused.

Chara and Aliza remained asleep, undisturbed by the sound. Bob drifted out of the living room, floating silently down the hallway toward the door. Bob's attention shifted to the entranceway, where the door was slightly ajar. Moving near it, slowly shutting it.

The faint creak of a floorboard from behind made it whirl around. Scanning through its lenses, it searched for the source. Adjusting its view to a magical frequency revealed a robed figure at the end of the hall, bathed in shadow magics. The silhouette resembled a variant of Ralsei.

"Wa—" Bob began to sound an alert, but a spell cut it off mid-chirp.

A magical scarf wrapped tightly around its frame, holding it aloft as the shadowed figure advanced. It moved silently into the living room, a crooked dagger clutched in its hand. Its gaze settled on the couch, focusing on Chara's resting form.

"The King says you're late on your payment, witch," the intruder hissed.

A sudden wave of orange light washed over the figure, dispelling its invisibility. The Ralsei variant blinked in confusion, the magic stripped from him. Bob, now free, darted back, scanning the area. Movement flashed behind the intruder.

Before the figure could react, a hand clamped over his mouth, dragging him back. His dagger was wrenched away, and the next instant, it plunged into his chest with a sharp, wet thunk. Muffled cries of agony escaped as the blade was driven in again and again, twisting cruelly.

A voice, calm and venomous, whispered into his ear.

"Shh... she has a hard time sleeping... and you"—another stab, deeper—"will...not...wake her."

The dagger flared with an unnatural orange glow, carving across his throat. His form flickered, magic tearing apart as his body crumbled into nothingness, leaving only empty, shadowy robes behind.

Bob hovered in silence, its lens fixed on the figure now standing over the remains. Soul illuminating the space, in a dim copper glow, manifested before her chest.

Aliza.

Her hair was disheveled, partially obscuring her softly glowing eyes, which burned faintly in the darkness of the apartment. She looked otherworldly—more creature than human.

Chara stirred in her sleep, her body tense, troubled by a nightmare. Aliza's sharp gaze softened as she moved to the couch, setting the spent dagger on the coffee table. Her soul fading within, kneeling beside her wife, she gathered Chara into her arms, holding her close.

A soft hum escaped Aliza's lips as she kissed Chara's forehead and stroked her hair. Slowly, over several minutes, the restless tossing subsided, and Chara's breathing evened out. Aliza smiled faintly, her voice a quiet murmur.

"Bob, dearest... can you dispose of those, please?"

Bob, shaken from its daze, responded quickly. "Yes, miss."

It collected the robes, noting faint traces of lingering magic. The remnants could potentially allow the intruder to reform, but Bob codified the remains before tucking them into a nearby hamper. Satisfied, it turned—only to let out a startled beep.

Aliza was standing there.

Bob hadn't heard her move. She raised a finger to her lips, the barest whisper of a "Shhh" escaping her. Her finger tapped its lens lightly.

"Be a dear and check outside, won't you?" she said, her tone gentle but firm. "I'm going to get her to bed, and I'd like to make sure no one else is present."

"Yes, ma'am," Bob replied, its decision to comply feeling less like an option and more like inevitability.

Before it could leave, something that was Not You whispered through the air, a voice sharp and cold.

"Are you simply going to let these actions go unpunished?"

Aliza's expression hardened as she glanced back toward the living room. "No... I don't think I will."

Bob wasn't sure who she was talking to, but didn't bother asking. It floated to the door and opened it, scanning the top porch. The staircase winding down was undisturbed. Rising higher, it scanned the roof and the surrounding area before drifting lower to inspect the steps and ground below. The building seemed quiet, inhabited only by residents.

It returned to the top apartment just as the door closed softly behind Aliza. Her appearance had changed subtly—her hair was now tied back into a ponytail, her necklace emitting a faint, steady glow. She wore the same coat Chara had worn earlier, and Bob's sensors picked up a detail on the back: two hearts nestled within the Deltarune symbol.

Bob hesitated before asking, "Where are… 'we' going?"

Aliza's voice was playful at first. "That's easy, silly. I'm going to kill the Good King Ralsei." Her tone darkened, her expression turning sharp. "He made the last mistake I'm willing to permit."

"Oh," Bob responded nervously. "Is… this… safe?"

"Aren't you adorable," she replied with a faint smirk.

The Not-You voice echoed in the air, cold and practical.

"You may need... an alibi. In case someone asks."

Aliza paused, considering this. "That may be wise… Luckily, I do have a thought." She pulled a folded list from her pocket, glancing at it. "Chara wanted to stop by Sans' shop—the green one—to see if he could get in touch with some people for you all."

"Is… this… our excuse?" Bob asked, puzzled. It didn't recall suggesting they come up with one, though the idea seemed sound.

"That depends, doesn't it?" Aliza replied, her steely gaze locking onto the drone. "Are you going to say otherwise?"

"No," Bob answered quickly.

Her expression softened into a faint smile as she patted its casing. "That's because you're a good boy." Her tone was warm but carried an undercurrent of unyielding authority. "Now let's be hasty. Every moment away from her aches… and I'd rather not be gone too long."

Bob obliged, following close behind as she descended the stairs much faster than Chara ever did. Aliza moved with an effortless grace, skipping steps and keeping a hand lightly on the railing for balance.

Once they reached the ground, Bob's lenses adjusted to the new angle, taking in the city's details for the first time from street level. The buildings appeared even more cluttered here, their structures overlapping and crowding the narrow streets. Interspersed among them were small, box-like structures marked as Guard Stations. These were fancier than the typical ones, each containing a single office, a jail cell, two windows, and a door.

Aliza passed by one of these stations without pause. Bob, ever curious, peered through the window. Inside, a rotund, balding cat-person with a mustache sat behind a desk, armored and engrossed in paperwork. In the jail cell, a much smaller mouse-person gnawed idly on the bars.

Aliza continued ahead, turning sharply into an alleyway. Bob let out a curious whir, following close behind.

The Not-You whispered.

"And where are we going, Aliza?"

"For something my Papa showed me," Aliza explained with a smirk. "It's, uh… a shortcut."

She approached a nondescript section of wall, pressing against it as she moved forward. Without warning, the scene shifted around them.

Bob found itself in the open fields outside the city. The gentle breeze rustled through the grain and trees, carrying the scent of the countryside. Aliza adjusted her coat, pulling the hood up over her head, and started toward a peculiar doorway ahead.

Near the doorway, another guard station came into view, one that Bob hadn't noticed before. This station had a single occupant: a bipedal dog in armor sprawled across the ground. Aliza knelt beside the figure, turning them over to inspect them.

"Magic sleep," Bob indicated, its voice tinged with concern.

The Not-You whispered darkly. "That feels dangerous. Surely there is a way to... counter this?"

"Yeah, there is actually," Aliza mused aloud, her tone contemplative. Bob tilted slightly, unsure why she spoke this thought aloud. "Hopefully, after this, Asriel will finally heed Chara's idea for alarm spells at every station."

"Alarm… spells?" Bob inquired, curiosity evident in its mechanical tone.

"Yes." Aliza nodded as she pushed open a dimly lit door leading into a narrow hall. "There's a Toriel in the Joined World who sells spells that activate under specific conditions. Chara thought it'd be wise, but her brother didn't listen."

"Why not?" Bob asked, following closely. The door slammed shut behind it, making the drone jolt slightly. "It feels beneficial, no?"

"They're quick to applaud what Chara's done for them but rarely listen to her advice," Aliza replied, her voice sharp with frustration.

The Not-You murmured sympathetically. "That sounds so very unfair... and frustrating. I wonder why?"

"Well… the main concern is money," Aliza explained, her fingers brushing absently against one another. Bob's sensors noted an odd detail—one of her fingers appeared slightly newer than the rest, as if recently regrown. "The famine caused... a lot of problems. Cannibalism, chief among them." She hesitated briefly before continuing. "That was before Chara reignited The Core. Since then, things are growing again. Slowly, but they're improving."

"Is food no longer a concern?" the Not-You pressed.

"It still is, actually," Aliza admitted, her tone heavy. Bob adjusted its sensors, but found nothing unusual. "Most of our food is imported, so almost all the money we make from our limited exports goes to that. Asriel's advisors think spending on 'cheap spells' is—well…"

"A waste of money," Bob finished, its mechanical hum low as they continued down the hallway.

"Exactly," Aliza affirmed, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Their brilliant solution? 'Hide the entrance.' Surely that'll stop anyone from wandering in and causing problems."

The Not-You chuckled darkly. "Yet, here we are."

"Yeah," Aliza muttered, annoyance flickering in her expression. "Guess we'll have to hide it again."

They emerged from the passage into a confined, shadowed alleyway. The small clearing ahead was dimly illuminated by the faint glow of a lantern. Its holder—a humanoid chess-piece-like figure crowned with a small golden helm—sat resting against the wall.

"Oh look, another threat. Proceed," The Not-You remarked with a mocking edge.

Aliza's eyes glossed over briefly, her movements becoming unnervingly fluid. Without hesitation, she stepped forward and slashed out with a single, precise motion. The figure's throat was cut before it could react, and its body crumbled into fragmented pieces on the ground.

Bob hesitated before asking, "Could we… not have handled that peacefully?"

Aliza blinked, the sharp edge of her focus returning. "I...well I was..." She shook it off. "They had their chance at peace," she said simply. "No sense morning them."

"Well said," the Not-You chuckled approvingly. "Wonderful, let us...Proceed. Can't waste time, can we?"

"Right." Aliza muttered, her voice low as she turned and continued forward.

Bob's circuits buzzed with unease, its focus shifting to the woman ahead. It tried to scan her discreetly, only to meet a strange resistance.

Your connection fading, as it flickered across its internal systems.

Access to information... Denied.

Reconnection in progress.

Please report to the nearest Administrator.

Your perspective shifted to an alternate signal.

The Observer sitting between two forces, cosmic in their essence, their prolonged presence warping the realm-space around them. The distortion created an eerie dichotomy: one end was lush with blooming flowers and writhing roots, a gentle snowfall drifting over it all. The other end had warped into something starkly different—a metallic, constructed landscape where earth and snow had eroded away, replaced by smooth tiles and mechanical groans.

The air itself seemed to reject the snow, dissolving flakes into nothingness. The earthy walls and open fields groaned as they were bent and flattened into featureless white panels, forming an orderly square enclosure. Above both realms stretched the same dull, empty sky, an unsettling void where a ceiling should have been.

In the midst of this fractured realm, Gaster paced, his long coat trailing behind him as he manipulated flickering screens and open monitors. Their contents were beyond your perception—and beyond the Observer's, or even the other occupant's.

Asriel, seated with his hands on his lap, opened his eyes and hummed thoughtfully. "Must you pace around?"

"I pace when I think," Gaster replied curtly, closing several panels with a wave of his hand. "There is still much to do, and I'd rather plan ahead than waste my time here doing anything less."

"You used to sit down," Asriel countered, his tone dry. "Did you run out of fidgeting toys? I could get you a spinner if that would calm you down."

Gaster shot him a sharp glare. "You could simply return my Observer and end this foolishness."

"Too late for that now," Asriel replied with a dismissive shrug. "Besides, spending time with you is the worst thing I can think to do, surely the feeling is mutual. Consider this my revenge." He added with a smirk, "I don't know how they suffer you."

Gaster manifested a cigarette and lit it, the faint glow of the ember standing out in the dim light. "Their opinion of me matters little."

"Except it does," Asriel said, waving his hand in disgust. "Put that out. No smoking in my realm."

"No," Gaster replied bluntly, taking a long drag and exhaling the smoke lazily. His smirk deepened. "Because you can't do anything to stop me, correct?"

Asriel's glare grew darker, but he said nothing. Gaster remained stationary, his arms crossed as he smoked, his pacing temporarily halted.

You spoke, your voice filtered through the Observer. "Say, Gaster. Do you remember me?"

Gaster glanced toward the Observer. "I recall this voice. You've spoken a number of times, if memory serves."

"How's life—or the void—treating you now?" you asked with a playful tone.

"I can hear the smile on your face," Gaster replied dryly. "It is, as it often has been. Miserable."

"Do they ask you that a lot?" Asriel inquired, his curiosity piqued.

"Sometimes," Gaster admitted. "Admittedly, they've managed to… rile me up on occasion."

"Let me guess," Asriel said with a chuckle. "You were trying to be serious, and they refused to play along?"

Gaster flicked his cigarette onto the snowy field, its glow flickering briefly before it was erased from existence. "Repeatedly," he muttered, smoke slipping through his teeth. "Sometimes it feels like I am herding cats." He paused before adding, "Did you know they once chose a rock for one of the roles?"

"I did see that, yes," Asriel said, laughing. "They were so passionate about it too."

"I considered self-erasure after that," Gaster said flatly, clearly annoyed. "I still, for the life of me, cannot grasp the motivation. For a damn rock."

"Maybe they were trying to mess with you. Get you to stop being so serious all the time," Asriel suggested.

"The nature of this mission is serious," Gaster retorted. "The cost is serious. It requires seriousness. Not… childishly flailing around with fanciful ideas and foolhardy—uhm…"

"Foolishness?" Asriel guessed, a grin tugging at his lips.

"You do not use the same word as a descriptor prior to a noun," Gaster replied stiffly.

"How plainly plain that would be," Asriel teased, clearly enjoying the groan that escaped Gaster.

Gaster resumed pacing. "Why are you talking to me?" he demanded. "I thought my presence was intolerable."

"It is," Asriel replied with a shrug. "But I can either sit in silence and wait or try to entertain myself." He added, "Don't misunderstand. I hate you. I think I always will. But that doesn't mean the conversation can't be amusing."

"Your hatred is noted," Gaster said coolly. "And is not my concern. The fact you have any speaks to how little you've grown up."

"That right?" Asriel asked, raising a brow.

"It is," Gaster confirmed. "But if continuing to blame me for everything provides you comfort… then by all means, boy, persist and enjoy."

"The issue isn't that I blame you for all of it," Asriel shot back. "It's that you refuse to accept blame for any of it."

"Why would I accept blame when I did nothing wrong?" Gaster asked pointedly.

"Inaction is an action," Asriel retorted before adding with a sigh, "Ah, see? Now you've gone and made me desire silence again."

Gaster didn't bother responding. He lit another cigarette and stood quietly as Asriel closed his eyes, his expression unreadable.

The Observer, caught between the two, felt an anxious tension in the air. It silently wished for the signal to end—and for the vote to conclude sooner rather than later.

Gaster reopened his panels, the screens casting a faint glow. Asriel remained motionless, lost in thought.

The signal faded once more…

Bob found the streets of the Joined World peculiar at night.

The snowy area they traversed was still alive with activity—street vendors remained open, a bar or two spilled light and sound into the cool air, and towering apartment buildings bore scattered, glowing windows. The streetlights here had a faint blue tint, their glow soft and almost calming.

The usual population of monsters was replaced predominantly by Darkeners, which made some sense to Bob. The drone half-expected Aliza to stop and greet a few of them as they passed. A handful had attempted to engage her in conversation or simply say hello, but she seemed disinterested, brushing past without a second glance.

Its focus shifted upward to the sky above—a breathtaking tapestry of weaving light. Waves of purple, green, and blue danced in a painted display across the otherwise empty expanse, snow somehow still falling despite the lack of clouds. The peculiarities of this domain only grew more apparent the longer Bob observed.

They passed a shop open exclusively at night, called Salsa Stumped. The establishment sold peculiar red or black tree stumps with hollowed-out centers, each filled with a bizarre type of salsa. Darkeners gathered to chat and haggle over prices, the scene a lively, if baffling, spectacle.

One particularly strange being approached them, clad in a tacky black suit and wearing multicolored, shifting glasses.

Not-You whispered sharply, "Don't entertain this fool."

The figure spoke in a staccato, fragmented tone. "Why hello, Little Lady. Are you—"

Aliza turned her glossy eyes toward him, her expression cold. "I don't have time to indulge your drivel. I'm not buying anything you're offering." Her tone was clipped, and she added as he instinctively recoiled, "Now, get out of my way."

"W-well," the figure stammered, his movements twitchy. "You seem like you're Feeling Fine on a Friday Night! Heh. Just thought you might need a little Hyperlink Blocked, but… never mind." With a nervous salute, he hurried away.

Bob observed the exchange, its tone mildly disapproving. "That seemed… mean."

Aliza sighed. "We're busy, and I…"

Not-You whispered, "Proceed."

"…Who cares? They're a dime a dozen," she muttered before continuing her brisk pace.

Bob had expected her to pause, apologize, or at least hesitate—but she pressed on, scribbling distractedly on the list she carried. She scrawled along the edges, blackening sections of the page as though in a passive reflex. Bob scanned the paper but found it illegible, the writing resembling chaotic chicken scratch. Somehow, it had imagined her handwriting would be better than that.

Their path brought them to a shop owned by the Green Sans. A freshly mounted sign hung over the building, reading:

Skeleton Shack. A Green Sans Enterprise.

The smaller words, Skeleton Shack, were overshadowed by the bold and prominent Green Sans, for reasons Bob could not comprehend.

Aliza stopped by the door and reached out, her hand poised to knock.

Not-You whispered, "Slide it beneath the door. It's quicker that way, right?"

"Yeah. Probably," Aliza muttered, her hand retreating. "He's probably not up anyway."

Bob inquired, "Perhaps not. Who were—"

A voice interrupted from behind them. "wasn't expecting visitors tonight."

They turned to find the ever-odd Green Sans standing nearby, holding an icy drink. The drink's exterior bore a colorful label that read, 'Why are you reading this?' in playful yellow letters with a font that seemed oddly familiar, though Bob couldn't place why.

"hey, Copper," Green Sans greeted, tilting his head slightly. "didn't expect to see you here."

"Hello, Mr. Green," Aliza replied, her voice softening. "I was just—"

"woah, woah," he interrupted, pocketing his drink somehow. "why so formal? that doesn't sound right. c'mon, you can call me Greeny. Your wife does."

Aliza gave a nod. "Y-yeah… she does, doesn't she?" she muttered. "Sorry."

Greeny turned his attention to Bob. "hey, Bob, and co—" He gave a nod toward you. "how's your night going?"

Bob replied, "Uncertain."

Aliza fidgeted with the list in her hands, her dimmed eyes scanning the scribbled text. She seemed momentarily lost in thought before snapping back to the present.

"Oh. Right," she said quickly. "Actually, we were just stopping by to see if you could assist with something." She offered the paper, which Greeny took. "I'm not sure how much Chara has told you about the Observer, but this relates to it."

Greeny scanned the list, his gaze flicking over the edges and chaotic scrawls. He hummed curiously, his expression thoughtful as his eyes shifted to Aliza, studying her for a moment.

"and here I thought you two talked about everything," he chuckled, the sound light but laced with familiarity. "but no worries—I already know what our pal here is. and about the, uh, 'otherworldly' folks listening in." His gaze darted toward you with a playful smirk. "hey, by the way… didn't expect you all out tonight. Ain't that funny?"

Bob noted the genuine confusion in Greeny's tone. "Where were we meant to be?"

"sleeping, burning evidence, preparing for a festival—that kinda thing," Greeny explained casually, his eyes briefly scanning the streets.

Aliza raised an eyebrow. "Burning evidence?"

"earlier tonight, I happened to overhear one of, uh, 'king' Ralsei's goons muttering about how the big boss was upset about late payments. said he intended to 'take initiative' and do something about it. figured it wasn't gonna work out for him," Greeny explained, his tone nonchalant. "take it you handled that, Copper?"

Aliza hesitated before replying, "Well… yes." She crossed her arms, her expression clearing slightly, her eyes less clouded. "Why didn't you stop him when you overheard him?"

"I was in the middle of a fight with a creepy 'faker' thing. sorta couldn't be in two places at once." He pulled out his phone, its casing clearly snapped in two. "and calling didn't work out. guess I'm outta minutes or something."

"Oh," Aliza murmured, managing a small, hesitant smile. "Sorry for… that."

"not your fault," Greeny said, waving it off. "He was insisting that the 'sa' in Sans was pronounced like 'sauna' instead of like 'sandals.'" He chuckled at the absurdity of it before turning his attention back to the list in his hand. "but hey, it's in my nature to wanna help." He paused, seeming to give her a moment. "So, if you've got anything on your mind, I'm here."

Aliza blinked, tilting her head slightly. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

"probably nothing," he replied smoothly. "anyway, I can take care of this list in the morning. let you turn in for the night, enjoy your festival back home." He gestured lightly toward you. "then we can do some fun interviews, get to know the candidates. you all come up with some basic questions, or I will—who knows? all that fun jazz. what d'ya say?"

Aliza's brow furrowed slightly. "Are you asking me or the watchers?"

"you and them," Greeny clarified.

Aliza managed a smile. "I think it sounds like a nice idea," she replied earnestly. "I just… uh, sorry. I don't have any ideas at this moment."

Greeny shrugged and looked toward you. "and you all? good idea, bad idea… any idea?"

Bob interjected, "It takes time for the signal to reach them."

"ah, so they don't, uh, respond back quick-like?" Greeny mused. "go figure."

The suggestion seemed to leave Aliza perplexed. She shook her head slightly, a passive rejection of the idea.

"But… they do sometimes, right?" she asked, her tone uncertain.

Bob's response was curt. "Negative."

"But the last one was pretty responsive?" Aliza pressed, her confusion deepening.

Bob tilted slightly, its tone curious. "Last one?"

"While we were headed here?" she half-asked, her voice tinged with bewilderment.

Bob paused, scanning its memory banks. Had one of you been saying something? It hadn't 'heard' anything notable that it could recall. The possibility of an internal malfunction crossed its mind—perhaps some damage inflicted by that intruder? It wasn't certain, but the explanation felt plausible… if it was true.

Greeny gave a slow nod. "ah, I get it now. tell ya what—I've got nothing to do tonight. why don't I tag along and make sure you get home safe?"

Aliza hesitated. "That's very appreciated, but uhm...well it's-"

"unless you're not heading home?" he interrupted, slipping the list into his pocket. "level with me, Copper—what's got you out tonight?"

Her reluctance to answer was apparent, and Bob noted her hesitation. Weighing its options, the drone made a decision.

"The assailant worked for King Ralsei," Bob informed Greeny. "Aliza does not wish Chara to be harmed."

Greeny raised an eye-socket, his expression unreadable. "you planning to kill a monarch to keep your princess safe?" he asked, his tone casual but probing. "thing is, I don't think he sent that guy."

Aliza shifted uncomfortably. "I mean… perhaps not." Her eyes narrowed in thought. "But if he isn't dealt with, do you think he'll just 'let it go'?"

Greeny let out a slow breath. "maybe. maybe not. dunno if rushing him is gonna work out for you, though."

"It may well be the only thing that would," Aliza countered. Her tone was firmer now. "He's never satisfied with what he's given. The price just keeps going up… and we can't pay it back."

"that's… also very true," Greeny admitted. He paused, scratching at the side of his skull before continuing, "Tell you what, then. If this is the path you're being forced to walk—" Aliza tilted her head at this phrasing. "—why don't I come with ya?"

Aliza's brows furrowed. "Mr. Green, you don't… have to do that."

"oh, c'mon, pal," he said with a casual shrug. "I don't doubt you're tough enough to take him out, but he's got people, and numbers count for something. you didn't bring your wifey, so might as well have some backup. and hey, I bet the watchers agree with me too."

"You think so?" Aliza asked, her tone skeptical.

"positive," Greeny replied confidently. "why don't we ask 'em?" He motioned toward you. "option a: I tag along and help out. option b: I go inside, crack open this 'happy bucket' meal I got earlier, and you go on your way alone. or option c: you head home, and I walk ya back."

Aliza frowned, static buzzing faintly in her mind. "I don't… think I'm supposed to do that," she muttered. "If I leave him alone, he'll just be a threat later."

"and one we can handle later, with things all planned out," Greeny countered. "but either way, let's see what they think. pkay?"

Bob broke the silence. "Their insight is positive."

Aliza nodded reluctantly. She couldn't quite place why she felt so hesitant. It wasn't a matter of trust—she trusted Greeny well enough. Chara trusted him too, and Chara's judgment was solid. Still, the static in her head grew louder, like a migraine reverberating in her teeth.

"Sure," she finally managed, her voice subdued. "Maybe… do you have something I can drink? My head hurts."

Greeny snapped his fingers, and the door to his shop swung open. "go ahead—I'll meet you inside in a second. just gotta dust off my shoes."

As Aliza stepped inside, Greeny stopped Bob. "hey, pal—did you hear any of your… uh, pals on the way here?"

Bob hesitated. "I do not believe so. Perhaps… something is damaged?"

Greeny muttered thoughtfully, "ain't that interestin'." His tone shifted slightly. "listen, I mostly just need 'you all' to back me up on this one, okay? something's off, and I don't like it."

"Should we be on alert?" Bob inquired, recalling earlier system notes.

"yeah, probably." Greeny paused for a moment before changing his name back to Sans. "now c'mon. let's play the waiting game while they decide—it's better than monopoly, or so I'm told."

He said this with a hint of amusement as he followed Aliza inside. Bob, lingering in thought, asked, "What is Monopoly?"

The door clicked shut behind them.