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Killer withheld a tired groan as he trudged through the castle's dark, windy halls/stairways to Nightmare's office, which the corruption-laden skeleton had "conveniently" decided needed to be on one of the upper floors of the towering structure. (The hoodie-clad murderer would forever curse the other's anti-teleportation wards and his "more exercise is good for you" argument.)
Despite Killer's desire to do nothing more than return to his room for some well-earned rest, he - very, very unfortunately - was required to deliver a report regarding his latest reconnaissance mission in the Star Sanses' base. A task easily described as "stand beside Ink and Dream while wearing a fake mustache and discover their most recent plans to thwart the spread of negativity."
It was a deceptively simple-sounding job. So much so the teary-eyed skeleton had thought it would be easy.
Oh, how wrong he was-
The Star Sanses' meeting was absolute chaos. Mainly because of a certain airheaded artist hellbent on starting every conversation he could possibly think of. Conversations that included, but were not limited to: the concerning confession of trying to roast his child over a fire, the ethics of murder, a long tangent about watercolor paint, an attempt to convince Dream and Blue to let him take his pet jellyfish on a walk, and so, so much more.
He nearly praised Dream as a saint for getting the soulless skeleton to shut up for more than a minute. And the other only quieted down because the yellow-clad guardian shoved candy and a coloring book in his face.
I swear, how do any of those Sanses confidently follow Ink when he acts like a child on an endless sugar high?
Nightmare better give me some time off for putting up with that nonsense...
The hoodie-clad murderer made one final turn into a hallway sparsely adorned by various furnishings (ancient tapestries and decorative tables Nightmare had skipped removing after he obtained ownership of the castle), soon walking to the large - possibly Asgore-sized - set of doors perfectly centered in the middle of the corridor. As he reached for a handle, passive nigh gloomy classical music quietly began to filter through from the other side.
Killer would have rolled his eyelights if they were visible.
Giving the door handle a turn, he pushed into Nightmare's office- a dreary room stuffed to the brim with papers, books, and writing instruments; Among the filled bookshelves sat a dark oak desk and spinning office chair. The front of the latter faced away from the entrance.
With a raised brow, the teary-eyed skeleton approached the desk. "Nightmare? I swear if you aren't in here and made me walk up all those stairs for nothing-"
His jaws clicked shut when the chair slowly began to turn. All the while, the violins within the music swelled, darkening the tone of the song. He silently watched as Nightmare spun in the seat, halting the furnishing's movement once he fully faced Killer.
The Guardian of Negativity's posture could only be described as cartoonishly villainous: hunched forward in his seat, arms propped against the chair's, hands laced in front of his chest, and eye socket narrowed.
Killer felt his soul twitch in amusement.
"I see you have arrived back unscathed." The corruption-ladden skeleton commented, looking him up and down for any signs of injury.
Killer snorted. "Has anyone ever told you you're dramatic?"
The dark lord's face soured before he scoffed, "I am not dramatic."
A smirk slowly crept across the hoodie-clad murderer's face. "Between the creepy music and generically evil posture you got going on, you're not convincing anyone of that anytime soon."
"Just give me your report and leave." Nightmare hissed.