Date Night with Swapfell Papyrus (FellSwap Red)

(A dimly lit barbecue joint in Hotland, the air thick with the smell of smoked ribs and hot sauce. Papyrus slouches in a booth, a cigarette dangling from his teeth as he eyes you with a lazy smirk.)

Papyrus: "Heh. Didn’t think you’d actually show up, kid. Most people get cold feet when they realize who they’re dealin’ with."

(He exhales smoke, watching your reaction carefully. His gold canine glints under the neon lights.)

You: "What, scared of a skeleton who can’t even bother to sit up straight?"

(He barks out a laugh before quickly stifling it, glancing around like he’s worried someone heard. His voice drops to a growling whisper.)

Papyrus: "Tch. Real funny. Keep it up and I’ll make sure your next meal’s my brother’s ‘special’ spaghetti."

(Despite the threat, he nudges a plate of spicy wings toward you, the sauce suspiciously glowing.)

Papyrus: "Eat up. If you survive, maybe I’ll even tell ya why my blasters are poly... poly... fuck it, why they’ve got extra heads."

(He leans back, pretending not to care if you stay or bolt—but his fingers tap nervously against the table.)