[Where one thread drops, the other one picks up. There's a theory about that, you know. Strand Theory, they call it. But - oh, they shouldn't be bringing up things like that. He'll want to know where a child like them picked something like that up. Not smart enough to stomach things properly; must have got it from a book.]

[If he likes books so much, they could recommend a particularly good one.]

[It was over, leaving behind the bitter aftertaste of a confrontation in which nothing was gained.]



[...what? That didn't happen?]

Really. [There's the plastic smile that always adorns them these days, cherry-bright and full of that false cheer that might be indistinguishable from Sans's own - might be, except it contains a rather different sort of energy, so different that even a potted plant could tell.]

[The potted plant would probably make several nasty remarks in the process, but, hey. We can't have everything.]

I've heard tell of flowers that give bloom to kittens...to flowers that give bloom to pure euphoria. Even flowers that do nothing but devour garbage, day in and day out.

[Their persistent garbage habit, as it were, shows no signs of stopping.]

Have you a favorite, sir?