Mafiatale - An Eye For An Eye (SansxFrisk)

Chapter 8:

*Third POV*

The food in The Underground was better than anything Frisk had ever tasted.

There was so much to choose from, and Toriel said she could have anything she wanted.

Despite Frisk's hesitant trust, she decided to eat and chose her food to settle her starved stomach.

A gooey cinnamon roll with sprinkles of cinnamon, orange juice to wash it down; creamed oatmeal with apples, fresh strawberries, (Toriel said were picked from the garden) and a dribble of cinnamon roll glaze over it all was what satisfied Frisk.

Frisk ate like a queen, and when she finished, she thanked Toriel kindly.

That's when a monster with six arms and six eyes popped into the dinning room Frisk and Toriel ate in.

"Does the little deary like it~?" She cooed, blinking a few of her eyes.

Frisk stared at the monster, and debated on answering.

As much as she wished to say yes, and explain how incredible it was, she was still untrusting of them.

They did kidnap her after all.

Except she knew that staying silent would be rude, and Frisk still had manners, so she answered kindly, "Yes. I enjoyed the chewy and soft texture of the cinnamon roll, and the bitter sweet tang of the orange juice. The oatmeal was good to, I liked the crunch of the apple and the spreading flavor. Thank you."

The purple monster rushed over (so fast Frisk jumped in shock) and leaned over Frisk who was sitting in the chair.

"Little deary likes my food~?" She giggled in a high voice, Frisk's eyes wide with shock, "Deary likes my food more than old man's."

"I highly doubt that Muffet, she seems to have liked the oatmeal better," a new voice said, the source being a man made of fire who stood in the doorway, "And I am not an old man."

Frisk watched Muffet stand straight and twiddle all her fingers together: one pair in back, one up front, and her other arms at her sides.

"Fire man doesn't like my cooking? Deary thinks it is good~" Muffet smiled mischievously at the man of flames, who was walking over.

"Your cooking is fine," he said his hands behind his back formally, "Mine is just better."

Toriel chuckled warmly and leaned down to Frisk as the two continued their argument, and she said, "These are the head chefs, Muffet and Grillby. Both always trying to out do the other. Because of this, I'm sure you will never go hungry."

Frisk was staring in awe at the two fighting chefs as Toriel grabbed her hand and pulled her up gently from the chair.

"Will they be alright on their own?" Frisk asked with concern for the two chefs, (who were getting quite heated, at that point, pun intended).

"Oh they will be just fine. Come now, my child," Toriel said, "There is much to see."

After being fed, Frisk did not expect Toriel to give her a tour of the entire first floor.

The scenes were pleasant, many servants and workers enjoying their day or chatting with others.

Frisk could see that most were probably working in the offices, because not many were downstairs.

In the ballroom, no one danced yet a blue fish woman played the grand piano with heart.

Toriel introduced her, "Undyne, head of-"