Just me and my serial killers

Chapter 7

Sans is careful in his approach to this situation. The coffee machine grinds on idly in the background, churning with noise, as his fingertips tap against the counter. He can see the fluttering of grass on the hillside as he pours creamer into one cup.

Technically, Sans didn't have to let her in. This wasn't an investigation, that much was clear. There would have been more cops and a flashy warrant if someone had been suspicious.

But she's here for questions. Which means that it's something Sans was involved in.

"Sugar? Milk?"

The woman at the table shakes her head gently, not even flinching at his sudden voice. Damn it. She's alert. Surprise attacks won't hold much of a surprise.

She's got a gun in her holster as well.

"Sorry for the uh... urgency earlier," Sans apologizes briefly, sitting down across from her. He folds his hands neatly onto the table, calm and reassured, but a little nervous. He can't play too calmly with her. Not yet. "We have a newborn, and we're keeping him away from strangers for the next few weeks since there's a bunch of viruses running about."

"Of course, I don't blame you at all," Mrs. Harles, with a flick of her wrist, gathers her coffee. Sans debates the pros and cons of poisoning it, but she had been watching.

Where is his nine-foot-tall serial killer clown when he fucking needs him?

"Okay, I know - I know I'm a monster, but I swear - whatever it is, it's... probably not as bad as some of the neighbors may have made it seem..."

The woman blinks. "Oh, no, it's - it has nothing to do with any of your actions!" The woman waves a hand to placate him. "Not at all. I'm just asking you a few questions regarding someone you know."

Sans pretends to sag into his seat with relief, exhaling a breath. "Oh, thank fuck - sorry, I just... new neighborhood and they aren't always... nice. To monsters."

"It's perfectly fine, I should've stated my intentions earlier. Sorry to make you panic."

Is Sans playing the species card? Yes. Because he needed a reason, or else his head was going to explode from stress. Cole was born fucking three days ago, and Bean is still less than a year old. This was absolutely the worst time for the police to become suspicious.

Why is she here? What has Sans done or been involved with that caught their radar?

They should be fine, though. All of the CreepyPasta living with him hadn't been as active recently, to the point where they weren't on the priority list anymore. Which meant fewer people would know them on sight.

Even with that in the back of his mind, he had motioned for Jane to go upstairs with Sally. Just in case.

"Just - yeah, if there's a next time, please keep me up to date on intentions, I - I was so worried," Sans coughs out. He stirs his coffee lightly. Whatever gem of a monster-made ketchup-flavored creamer, he wants to hug them. It's beautiful.

The woman's expression softened. "I'm actually here about the human ambassador. Frisk Dreemurr."

Sans' soul drops at those words.

"I know this is probably sudden and rude, but due to the role that child had, I couldn't put off questioning any further. I'm sorry for your loss."

His... what?

Sans pauses, his coffee cup of ketchup creamer and several expresso shots inches away him his skull. And for a moment, all is still. He can hear the slight shuffling of Eyeless Jack up in his room.