still can't think of a title

5. Acting Like A Moron Ft. Some Kid You Don't Know

The atmosphere inside Muffet's is heavy and cold, no different from outside. But it's not the same at all, however. I know that Error is here too, he's a little difficult to forget about, but it's isolating. I've never been here in my life, but as soon as I stepped into the building it felt so wrong and off-putting. Nothing about this place is right, and it definitely feels like it never will be again.

Snow had blown in through the windows, there's no light to give it the silvery sheen I'm seeing. I'm not enjoying the sensation of walking on dead bodies. I always thought I'd be more comfortable with death, apparently not. The door that's off its hinges, from a closer view, appeared to have holes in it, and I find it unlikely a child would have a gun, so I concluded it was from nails. They tried to board the place up, in hopes of keeping the kid outside. I think they thought they would be safe, that they'd have a chance of survival. I don't think they did.
Behind the counter, a smashed in cash register had fallen, and several bottles and jars are shattered. I can still see the stain from the liquid on the snow, it hasn't been covered with fresh powder. Whatever happened here, it was recent enough to warrant a bit more anxiety on my part. I'm determined to share that with Error.

"Hey, uh, over here." I throw a glass shard in Error's direction. He turns from watching out the window. I'm a little more convinced he's just as anxious as me, now. "The glass shit is wrecked, and the liquids haven't fully melted the snow yet."
"What's your point?" He retorts.
"One, Muffet made their own tea, upfront, like a bar. And two, the player was here, recently at that."
Error averts his eyes, processing for a moment I presume. "Shit," He says quietly. "Fine. We'll go quicker. I don't want to be here any more than you do." I nod. I'm not going to object to something I want.
He gestures for me to follow him, and walks to a door right of the front counter. I don't want to go in, I really don't, but the sooner I let him look around the sooner I get to leave this place. He breaks the door handle entirely and then smashes a hole in the door. I guess it was locked? Inefficient, but successfully intimidating. Error fits through the opening he made, but I don't follow in. It's pitch black in there, and he's the one who can't die. I instead poke my head through to see if I can see anything, which I now realize is fucking idiotic because there's absolutely no light. Does Error have some sort of night vision?

"Back up." I hear him warn from the other side. I do back up, right into a table, and in fear that I might get my head kicked in regardless of how far away from the door I am, I climb on top of it for the upper hand. The door swings out-- the way it isn't meant to go apparent from the horrible metal sounds the hinges are making-- and doesn't go any further than a foot away from the chair beside the table I'm on. I overreacted, but I'm on a table and Error isn't. Speaking of, he's come out with a knife in hand, and now I'm not sure the table is giving me the upper hand after all.
"It's a toy, would you relax? They wouldn't have gotten the real knife at this point," Now I feel like an idiot.
"Why'd they leave the toy knife in there? I don't remember there being a better weapon anywhere at this point," Voice 1 speaks after being silent the entire time.
"Where were you this whole time? Didn't feel like piping in when I climbed onto a table?" I ask.
"No way! the embarrassment would be funnier than anything I had to say,"
I shrug. "Fair enough. You're not really the funny one, so..."
They gasp like they've witnessed me commit a crime. "What!? I'm hilarious! Shut the fuck up!!"
"Both of you, be quiet. Don't let it escape you that this is a genocide timeline, and we're all under risk." Error hisses, now standing in the doorway to leave.
"I thought you said you only die if you want to. What risk are you at?" I hear a quiet "what?" from Voice 1. Clearly they didn't hear the conversation we had a bit ago.
"We're all vulnerable to the player. I can't do anything about it if they try killing me: I've got zero control over more meta things like this. If they kill me, I actually die, regardless if I want to or not."
I stick my tongue out. "Boring monologue. Let's hurry it up so we can scram."