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"Uh, could you say that again?"
"Of course." Sans glowered and rubbed the back of his neckbones. "We already did this. A bunch of times."
Catti wandered over and smacked her bubblegum. "Y'guys ready to order?"
"What do you mean 'a bunch of times'?"
"Exactly that! We've sat in this booth a million times and had this same conversation!"
Her eyes flicked between the skeleton and the old goat. "Um. Today's special is blueberry pancakes...?"
"You must be insane!" Toriel shouted. "What kind of stunt do you think you are pulling?"
Ears folding back in fear, Catti mumbled "I can come back if you're not ready..."
"It's not a fucking stunt!" Sans yelled. "This is real! I'm in some kind of loop!"
She wisely decided to scuttle away. "Yeah, I'll come back."
But she hissed in terror when he grabbed her by the wrist. "Catti, honey, c'mere a minute."
Toriel blinked the sweat off her eyelashes as she watched her date steer the poor kitten towards her. Nudging her with his elbow, Sans said "So Catti... you like Sephora, but your budget only allows you to buy eyeliner from the drugstore. You're also a practicng Wiccan, am I right?"
She nodded feebly. "That's... that's right?"
"Your older sister has a similar name." He looked around. "Hey, tell ya what, Tori. Ask me about anyone here and I'll give you their life's story."
"There is no way you know everyone in town! You just moved here yesterday!"
Something very weird lit up in his eyesocket. "'Yesterday' was a long time."
Toriel jumped out of her seat and went marching up to the first monster she saw. "Fine then. Tell me who this is."
Sans smirked at Asgore. "That's your ex husband. See how he has two different coloured eyes? That's called heterochromia, and it's the most 'hetero' thing about him."
Asgore blinked. "Beg pardon?"
"Okay!" Yanking him by the elbow, Toriel shoved him towards another booth. "Who are these two?"
"Hah! That's Noelle. She puts up Christmas decorations in September, and she's the gayest homosexual who ever lesbianed."
The little reindeer giggled and shrugged. "Well, I mean, he's not wrong..."
Pinching the bridge of her snout, Toriel sighed and said "Okay, fine. Who is her friend?"
Sans turned his grin to the other teenager. "That's Susie. She's got a real bad crush on Noelle, but she's too chickenshit to ask her out."
Noelle's jaw dropped. "Wait, what?!"
"Yeah, she's got two prom tickets in her right jacket pocket, and a flask full of Dutch courage in her left."
With a horrible snarl, Susie rose from her seat. "You son of a---"
Quickly escorting him away, Toriel pointed at someone else. "And her?"
This time his smile looked more like a leer. "That's Alphys. She knows a lot of ways to use that tail. She can crush a skull between her thighs and screeches like a velociraptor when she gets real excited."
Alphys coughed on her coffee. "W-w-what the hell?!"
"It's true!"
"This is insane." Toriel shook her head. "How are you doing this? Is this a trick?"
"Nope, not a trick." He glanced to the side. "The owner of this cafe is a lioness named Bertha. In about five seconds she's going to trip and drop a bowl of soup."
"Sans---"
"Three, two, one..."
A clatter from behind the counter, and Bertha shouted out "Oh heavens to Betsy!!"
"Okay, okay, fine." Toriel's face had gone pale, a remarkable thing for a monster who was white to begin with. She sat him back in the booth they'd originally occupied, and once she got herself settled, whispered "What about me, Sans? Do you know me, too?"
The skeleton had, of course, a perma-smile, but for some reason it seemed to deepen. "You're a kindergarten teacher."
"Oh, everyone knows that."
"...but you never thought you would be." He leaned forward and folded his arms. "You went to college to study nineteenth century French poetry. You were going to be a prof. You thought it would be great to teach eighteen-year-olds because you could help shape their futures. But then you realized that little kids needed a lot more help than legal adults, so you switched your major and went into teaching college." With a wistful look in his glowing socket, Sans went on: "You don't just teach kids, though. You carry that teaching to everyone. You know... things like 'Hitting is wrong. Sharing is nice. It's fun to say yes, and it's okay to say no. Taste it before you say you don't like it.' Y'see? Everything you teach adults is the same thing you teach those little kids."
There were tears in her eyes.
"I'm not smart enough to pull off something like this. I'm telling you, Tori, that I'm going through the same thing over and over again, and I don't know how to stop it." He gathered her hands up in his. "But as long as you're here, I guess it's okay."
Sniffling, she rose and grabbed her purse. "I-I have to go."
Sans glowered as he watched her rush out. "You always do."
He was still staring at the table when Bertha approached him with a gentle smile. "Sorry about your order, hon. French onion soup's gonna take a few more minutes, but here's some garlic bread on the house."
"Forget it."
He tossed a tip on the counter as he went shuffling out.
He stopped, however, when he was right by the mayor. Then he slowly turned. "Hey."
She narrowed her eyes. "Oh, it's you."
"Carol, right?"
"Yes. And you are...?"
Sans tilted his head. "Did you go to high school here?"
She put down her drink. "No. In fact, I didn't even go to high school in this country."
"Oh, you're an immigrant?"
"Hope that's not a problem." She was looking at him with outright suspicion. "I'm Canadian."
"Hey, that's cool. Some of my best friends are hosers. So what province, eh?"
She narrowed her eyes. "No province at all. Yukon Territory."
"Uh-huh. What city?"
"Whitehorse. What are you---"
"And your high school?"
"John MacDonald high. Why?"
"And your grade nine homeroom teacher?"
"Uh, Madame Shawnee. What's going on here?"
"French immersion, I take it." Sans nodded. "Okay. Carol. Yukon. Whitehorse. John MacDonald High. Madame Shawnee. Got it."
Carol gasped when he started walking off. "Hey! HEY! What the hell was that all about?!"
Grinning over his shoulder, Sans just said "Nothing. See ya tomorrow!"