Royal Blue

What Has Been Done (Chapter Three)

Something was wrong.

Not the king of wrong that burns your tongue and seizes your throat with the unforgiving hand of consequence, not the wrong that orphans children and echo's with screams and quiet sobs.

No, this was a duller thing. Or maybe it didn't even exist.

After all, they'd arrived to Mettaton's resort, been escorted to their seats at four tables pushed together, and ordered without incident. The chatter had been mindless, if not almost pleasant. The food had been surprisingly good. And the waitstaff had been nothing if not attentive, likely because their boss was enjoying a quaint dinner with the Queen, Ambassador slash freer of all Monster-kind, the royal scientist and two royal guards, one of which was the captain...

—Oh, and Sans too, but it wasn't like he had much of a flashy title these days.—

But if there had been a check-list to a wonderful night, this would have filled it out and then some.

And yet still, something felt wrong.

He evaluated everything, the table was set and clean, the people dawning formal wear which he'd already evaluated for bugs or devices; all turning up nothing. The drinks had been poured in-front of them from sealed bottles, giving no signs of foul play. The doors were open and exists unblocked, monsters around seeming innocent enough...

The only possible thing that it could be was a faint smell.

He sniffed again, hidden under the guise of a cough.

Yes. In the air wafted a feeling, dry, dull and nearly unnoticeable, but he was sure of it. If he squinted, he could almost see it. A faint mist. It was scented vaguely as a mint does on a smoker's breath. Strong, but not quite strong enough to camouflage the death-giving habit, and the guilt purveyed.

It was likely just some burnt food and air-freshener, but still...

It almost- almost reminded him of...

"S-Sans?" Alphys asked quietly. Her seat was right next to his, across from Undyne in true date-fashion.

"Yo," Sans said at a normal volume, casually leaning on the back legs of his chair, the wood squeaking just slightly.

"A-Are you doing o-okay?" Alphys whispered. "I-I mean... Ah, y-you h-haven't piped in i-in a while..."

Sans took a long sip of his ketchup, which Mettaton had insisted be put in a wine-glass. Sans had of course retaliated by sipping it through a red crazy-straw, giving Frisk the blue one he usually used; the kid had just seemed so enamored by it.

"I'm all good Alph." He said after a timely pause. Alphys didn't seem entirely convinced, but she wasn't the kind to push.

Sans looked over toward Undyne. She and Papyrus had been inseparable since this morning. It was almost like the universe knew he was trying to confront Undyne for her fishy actions, and was making it as annoying as possible.

Honestly it was getting on his nerves, which was hard to do since he was sorely lacking in all things flesh-and-blood.

"It's your girlfriend you should be worried about," Sans muttered, to no one but himself. Stiffening as soon as he'd said it. Sure he was a little —maybe a lot— pissed about her letting Pap into the guard just as they break to the surface, on the cusp of what could be another great Monster-Human war...

"H-Huh?" Alphys asked, likely not having heard him over Mettaton's exaggerated laughter at Papyrus's quip. The robot's hand drifted over Papyrus's forearm, flirtation read in every movement.