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"Okay, so, let's start this out the right way this time."
Sans gives a quizzical look. "What—"
"I'm Ink!" He pushes past Sans' dialogue. Doesn't matter. He gets a fresh start on a fresh timeline. A truly fresh one with the original man of the hour. "And I'm..."
Shit.
What is he?
This one doesn't know yet. About Ink or Error. That there's more universe than this one. Of what will happen to him in this one, that he could have to relive it.
He knows nothing.
"I'm new in town," Ink awkwardly supplies. "Maybe you could show me around...?"
This was a stupid idea.
It is a stupid idea.
A beat.
He needs to—
"Yeah sure," Sans answered calmly, "Why the hell not, eh? Grillbys' got a discount on new folks."
Hm.
Maybe it'll work out.
-/-/-/-
Ink doesn't eat.
Or talk.
He listens more than anything. It's nice to learn about the intricacies of the original. Even if threat looms in the near future, he can kick back.
"Ketchups all yours."
He slides down the bottle.
Ink easily catches it.
It's almost too acidic.
-/-/-/-
"Just, call if you need help," Ink clarifies, holding one of Sans' hands between both of his. "Or if there's a massive fight. I can help."
"Naw, I'll have it covered." Casual. Easy. Undeniably what the rest were based off of.
"You won't. You really, really won't." Ink pauses. "There's a fight that could go down here that could ruin everything. You'll know it when it happens. That's when I want you to call me."
A tense beat.
A halfhearted shrug. "I'll try to remember." And that means he will, right?
"Thanks."
"You're a riot by the way, Ink. Kinda quiet, but you're a character alright."
"Thanks…?" More hesitant.
Sans laughs. "It's a compliment, weirdo."