The air of Snowdin is as chilly as ever. Nothing noteworthy. Whatever pleasantries the people saw, he never noticed. Sans never had an optimistic outlook on the world or himself—just hoping the best for others while accepting that it’ll all be gone. Helping others is the best he can do while saving none for himself.

His poker face grin is soft. White eyes calm and knowing. Stance lax and experienced. Him, burdened and misunderstood. He keeps his hands in his pockets as he strides along the way to his sentry post, alone.

“it’s quiet.” he starts, eyebrows raising slightly as he strolls along the forest pathway, “the breeze gentle, the snowfall steady—almost unmoving in its descent. there’s not a lot to go off of.”

A stop to take in the atmosphere despite being so far away from it. “the town’s lively today.” a pause to gaze to the snowy sky, steady and accepting. “...but i couldn’t really budge. things just... feel a little heavier today.”

He thinks that over—no one is here to hear him—not like they would understand him regardless in what he knows. His gaze falls to the snow-covered floor. “...maybe that’s also another excuse.”

He finally made his way into the clearing—the idle sentry post he often fell asleep in out of soul exhaustion. And as his eyes spot their destination, he exhales softly—not out of relief, but out of knowing that maybe... a whole day’s worth of effort can be gone the next day. “i guess this situation’s on me.”

Easygoing steps into the post. Nothing special. He simply keeps his hands in his pockets, staring at the counter for a moment before his eyes just... close. No need to help anyone if they aren’t here right now. A barrier—his barrier of life. Reaching out with no one to reach him. Because they just don’t understand who this man truly is.