Sans huffed, puffing a bit of smoke out of his cigarette and blowing it deep into the bar with a furrow of his bonebrow.

“Grillby, give me tha usual.” Sans mumbled, and he was met with a mustard bottle slammed onto the counter. Sans smiled with his gold tooth, placing his cigarette on the side of the ash tray and grabbing the bottle with a stupid grin.

The door bell to the bar rung out, but Sans didn’t turn his head. It was only when someone sat down on the barstool beside him he looked.