Like, to be fair, he's pretty sure the kid in question was some kind of kung-fu devil child, based on things he's recalled about a similar fight with similar knife wielding ten year old. He's also pretty sure that he himself had some kind of magical powers, given all the special effects that had been going on. It's not totally dissimilar from the trick he picked up recently, in fact...
But all of that seems less relevant to him than his emotional reaction to it all. He'd done it after offering to spare them. To call a truce. Hell, he'd beckoned them forward for some kind of hug. And then he'd speared them on bone shrapnel.
The good guys are supposed to feel bad, when they kill someone. Even if it was necessary, even if it was just. But then...he didn't really feel anything. If anything, he just thought it was funny. He'd done the equivalent of tea bagging the kid with a rare note of vicious satisfaction, telling them not to come back. Who does that?
If that was really him, in any capacity, he's got some serious issues. The real trouble is why it feels so perfectly coherent with his inner self. The inner self that has been done with life since he was a teenager. The self that has felt strangely callous about the world around him for as long as he can remember.
Greg is scared. Or maybe that's giving himself too much credit when it comes to being threatening. He's freaked out, grossed out, something. Whatever it is, he's fishing for something, and Sans is pretty sure this could be the breaking point if he wanted it to be.
"Because if I didn't, I'd just be doing it all again! Pulling one over on ya, sitting back and riding the wave where I get to pretend this isn't my problem."
A hand goes to his chest, over his heart, and he can feel the ache of the stress pains within. Maybe this part, at least, is hurting more than he would have expected. Maybe that's a good thing.
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Like, to be fair, he's pretty sure the kid in question was some kind of kung-fu devil child, based on things he's recalled about a similar fight with similar knife wielding ten year old. He's also pretty sure that he himself had some kind of magical powers, given all the special effects that had been going on. It's not totally dissimilar from the trick he picked up recently, in fact...
But all of that seems less relevant to him than his emotional reaction to it all. He'd done it after offering to spare them. To call a truce. Hell, he'd beckoned them forward for some kind of hug. And then he'd speared them on bone shrapnel.
The good guys are supposed to feel bad, when they kill someone. Even if it was necessary, even if it was just. But then...he didn't really feel anything. If anything, he just thought it was funny. He'd done the equivalent of tea bagging the kid with a rare note of vicious satisfaction, telling them not to come back. Who does that?
If that was really him, in any capacity, he's got some serious issues. The real trouble is why it feels so perfectly coherent with his inner self. The inner self that has been done with life since he was a teenager. The self that has felt strangely callous about the world around him for as long as he can remember.
Greg is scared. Or maybe that's giving himself too much credit when it comes to being threatening. He's freaked out, grossed out, something. Whatever it is, he's fishing for something, and Sans is pretty sure this could be the breaking point if he wanted it to be.
"Because if I didn't, I'd just be doing it all again! Pulling one over on ya, sitting back and riding the wave where I get to pretend this isn't my problem."
A hand goes to his chest, over his heart, and he can feel the ache of the stress pains within. Maybe this part, at least, is hurting more than he would have expected. Maybe that's a good thing.