Frans Week (2022)

Favorite Trope

Frisk knew she wasn't supposed to be there. Clubs weren't very legal, especially since it was the twenties. However, she had gone to the only club in town that allowed monsters. Let's not get confused though. The club only allowed monsters to perform, and if they were to look at any of the humans they were performing for, they were kicked to the curb and turned to dust on the bottom of the bouncers' boots.

Under any other circumstance, Frisk wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this, since she hated the way the monster performers were exploited. However, something had drawn her to the club that night. She had no idea what it was, but she was determined to find out.

She went to the bar, not bothering to look at the human woman on stage that belted out high notes that sounded like a cat getting its tail caught under a rocking chair.

"What can I get you, miss?" The bartender's voice sounded gravelly, and his breath wreaked havoc on Frisk's nose, drenching her senses in a thick layer of tobacco. She smiled at him, regardless.

"What would you recommend? I can't say I'm much of a drinker, so I don't know what sounds good." She laughed a little and looked back at the menu.

"You seem like a sweet lady... I'd suggest the Ward Eight; it's pretty popular among you woman folk. Anything to eat?" Frisk looked up at the man, silently questioning whether or not she felt safe taking food from a man that had clearly never heard of soap. However, she had heard that alcohol on an empty stomach wasn't exactly a good thing, so she figured, it'd be better to take the chance.

"The stuffed mushrooms sound pretty good. I think I'd like those." She gave the man another polite smile as he turned away from her to get the order to the cook.

She breathed a heavy sigh as she looked around the club, trying to pinpoint where the need to be there was coming from. Unfortunately, no answer magically spawned in.

~~~~~~~~~~

"You're on in five minutes. Remember, I see you looking at anyone-" Sans scoffed and continued for the large man.

"and you'll turn us to dust. yeah, we've heard the spiel before. don't worry chief, wouldn't want to get your panties in a twist. let us get ready." The bouncer threw a nasty look at the skeleton but simply grunted and walked away.

"That could've ended very poorly, you know." Shyren was looking at her friend, hoping he would take the hint, not that he ever did.

"yeah, for him. he tries anything, and i'm allowed to retaliate." He walked over to Napstablook in order to fix his tie.

"Yeah... Then you get shot..." Napstablook looked a little shocked as Sans straightened the ghost's tie. He typically cared about appearances the least of anyone else in the group.

"You know, darling. I hate agreeing with them, since you would clearly be in the right, but they have a point." Mettaton followed up Sans' straightening with his own, since Sans was horrible at it.

"Should I bother asking why you seem to be more concerned with how we look tonight? It's obvious there won't be anyone catching your eye in the crowd, so why do you care?" Sans paused while he adjusted himself in the mirror.

"don't know. tonight just feels like it's gonna be different." He shook his head a little, grabbed his trombone, and headed to the stage with his fellow band members.

~~~~~~~

Frisk had taken a seat at one of the booths after the bartender had brought her her order and opted to watch the entertainment instead of even attempting to touch what was on her plate. Her cheek was at rest on her hand as she waited for the intermission to be over. That's not to say that she was at rest, though. Her foot was tapping a mile a minute, and her eyes darted between every face she could see. She was getting impatient while waiting for the reason for her being here, and the smoke that filled the club didn't help.