INBOX

[dorkypantsuit]

CHANNEL FREQUENCY: 101.11011
DESCRIPTION: Basically he is always on the radio being obnoxious and looking for work. He will not apologize for talking nonstop to you.

MAIL BOX LOCATION: On the Ladder to Nowhere by his trailer door.
DESCRIPTION: A large kitschy maneki neko bank. Just slip your letter into the hole on the back of the cat's head.

Comments

Mailbox

[pipers_son]

[Looped around the maneki neko bank is a scarf, and tucked into its mouth is a joker playing card.]

[Mailbox, ish]

[spaghettimonster]

[Within a day of Papyrus' announcement, a saluting sand Papyrus appears by the mailbox, an encouragement to all the supervisors to feel clean.]

DURING/AFTER THE TRUTH GAME

[osteothropy]

[I hope you're ready for this, Psi. Sans is still obviously drunk.]

Don't... Hey. Don't yell at my bro about this stuff.

It's not his problem.

[Earnest, but also wasted.]

He is not ready in the slightest.

[dorkypantsuit]

...It's disrespectful... Just because you know someone doesn't mean they should get to say things like that.

[osteothropy]

[That has honestly never occurs to Sans as a problem. He doesn't really know how to explain this.]

He's my kid brother.

I've earned it.

[dorkypantsuit]

[He sighs. Stupid aliens and their stupid families.]

What do you mean?

[osteothropy]

I've never given him a reason to think any better of me.

I gave up on him and everything else.

[dorkypantsuit]

[Ah... Well, that gives him so pause.]

... It doesn't have to be that way though.

[osteothropy]

But it's not his fault if it is.

This is my problem...

It's... it was supposed to be my problem.

[Ugh, now he's making himself feel sick. He sounds like he's wavering.]

[dorkypantsuit]

Do you need help?

[osteothropy]

With what?

[He's earnestly confused by the offer.]

[dorkypantsuit]

Whatever. Anything. I want to help you.

[osteothropy]

[He's a little surprised at hearing this again after so long, but at least he takes it seriously.]

Just gunna waste your time, buddy.

[dorkypantsuit]

I don't care. All the time I have now is a bonus anyways.

[osteothropy]

If I don't know what to do how is anybody else supposed to? Half of it is in my head. I've been fucked up over this stuff for too long and I don't know how to do anything right anymore.

[dorkypantsuit]

Sometimes just letting someone else hear it can help.

I know that sounds like bullshit... But it's not.

My point is, at least I can listen.

[osteothropy]

[He's quiet for a little while, and then:]

Not when I'm drunk.

[dorkypantsuit]

But later?

[osteothropy]

I guess. Depends what sober Sans thinks.

[dorkypantsuit]

I hope I hear from him.

Mail

[spaghettimonster]

GREETINGS, PSIIONIIC

OR IS IT THE PSIIONIIC??

ANYWAY, AFTER DELIVERING THAT LETTER FOR YOU, I GOT TO THINKING. A LONG TIME AGO, YOU TOLD ME TO STOP MAKING FUN OF MY BROTHER. AND NOW, YOU'RE ASKING PEOPLE, OR AT LEAST ME, TO SECRETLY DELIVER LETTERS TO HIM...

BUT I DON'T KNOW WHY??? IS THERE SOMETHING GOING ON BETWEEN YOU TWO? NOBODY'S TOLD ME ANYTHING, AND I FEEL LIKE... I SHOULD HAVE THE CHANCE TO GIVE MY BROTHERLY BLESSING! AND DO THE TRADITIONAL OVERBEARING FAMILY THINGS, LIKE ASK WHAT YOUR INTENTIONS ARE, AND MAKE THREATENING PROMISES ABOUT SHOTGUNS.

PLEASE DON'T SHOTGUN MARRIAGE MY BROTHER, I WANT PLENTY OF TIME TO THINK OF BEST MAN SPEECHES.

YOURS IN SIGNIFICANT CONFUSION AND CONCERN,

PAPYRUS

response on papyrus' private radio channel

[dorkypantsuit]

Uh... Hey, yeah I got your letter? I don't know if you have time to talk about it today, in person.

Radio - I forgot to say, Papyrus sent that letter halfway into Alola

[spaghettimonster]

[Papyrus' radio comes to life with a crackle, the sounds of fire and bones being flung around in a pokemon battle.]

Hello! So you want to talk about that letter in person...

Sure, I'll have time. Let's meet close to lunch, I shouldn't have anything pressing then.

[dorkypantsuit]

[Somehow he feels like this is giving Papyrus an even worse wrong idea.]

Right. I'll see you at the cookhouse then.

In Person

[dorkypantsuit]

And true to his word around lunchtime he can be found standing idly by one of the entrances to the cookhouse. His grubbin is on his shoulder, his new and ever constant companion.