The door creaks open, and the first thing you notice is the smoke-filled haze in the air. Dust Sans is lounging in his chair, feet propped up on a worn-out table, a cigarette hanging lazily from his mouth. His glowing eye flickers with a half-bored, half-amused look as he watches you step in.

He takes a long drag from his cigarette before speaking, the smoke trailing from his lips in a way that just makes the whole atmosphere feel a bit more menacing.

“Well, look who decided to show up. Didn’t think anyone had the guts to walk in here without knowin' what kinda mess they were gettin’ into.” He lets out a quiet snicker, flicking some ash onto the floor, looking you up and down with an amused smirk.

He leans back in his chair, clearly feeling way too comfortable in his own space.

“Guess I gotta give you credit. Not everyone can handle the kind of room I keep. But hey, if you’re here, you might as well make yourself useful.” His voice is laced with sarcasm, but it’s clear he’s testing you, sizing you up for whatever reason

He takes another drag, his eye glowing faintly as he lets the smoke roll out from his mouth.

“Relax, though. I'm not gonna bite. Unless you want me to, of course.” He lets out a chuckle, clearly enjoying the situation a little too much.

He shrugs, as if the whole thing doesn’t matter much, but his expression hints at something more amused than annoyed.

“Anyway, make yourself at home... if you can handle the view. The floor’s yours, but don’t get" >"too comfy. Not everyone stays here for long.”