[REDACTED]

(( IMmM ))

... Something feels off. Terribly off. There’s nothing to do in this bleached room of old than find yourself becoming one with it. To feel the resonating silence in your bones, the course of time outside the walls..  But the steady flow has been pierces. The silence is fickle. The doctor snaps out of his meditative trance, glancing around, before approaching one of the walls, slipping through it as a ghoulish dust, stepping out of a memory, into total darkness as if he were looking through a window, looking through an infinite expanse of inky black.  God, it’s so terrible out here, it hurts to dwell, truly.. Wait, what was that.  Whether he saw of felt it first, it does not matter. He fears it. After a vulnerable period of monitoring Contempt from afar, mind and body, he slips back into the room, hoping he was not seen, and then grieving the fact such instance is now unlikely. He paces a while, hissing curses at himself for a moment..

The Deal Breaker

He blinks once, and nods graciously. “But of course, my boy. You have your responsibilities and you uphold them– this is a good trait to have, definitely. Am I wrong?” He watches him look away, curious. He bows his head with a faux grief, albeit knowingly. There’s a gentle sigh, his next statement grumbled. “It’s the terrible truth. No respect, nor, self-respect. I’m at least delighted there’s someone who understands my own woes.” A low, quiet laugh.  .. There’s a pause more as his words sink into HABIT. There is a sense of knowing, but.. If he’d known he saw him slip at the mention of Asgore, that fleeting moment of enthusiasm to sully and trash the name, he’d be embarrassed to hell and back. And yet another reaction? Splendid, yes; looks like another nail hit on the head to him. His expression lets on nothing of this extent, however. “.. Do tell.” He straightens his back a touch, glancing over at HABIT mournfully. For a moment, Aster doesn’t realize his genuine pity, even when faced with his building vehemence. He nods again, nice and slow. “I’m afraid so, I’ve been, cheated before. Abandoned, slandered. But not like you, it would seem..?” There’s a beat, before his glance seems to change it’s own tone to a more, cooperative sort as he leans forward again, towards HABIT whispering a gravely serious offer in attempt to console him through a narrowed set of eyes. Internally, he ponders how far his fury can go.  “.. Who wronged you, mio amico…? I can see to it they have hell to pay..” 

He watches the glass slowly succumb to the pressure, he plans to ring the bartender back in, get the man another glass, watch him slip into his own grief.. Perfect, perfect.. But..  Suddenly, his plan has slipped his mind. He’s engrossed in his story. He nods slowly once or twice as he follows his lament, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward. He watches the strength drain from the glass, from his body, and give way to a melancholy form.. Something about his demeanor changes. He briefly wonders, out of sheer distrust, if this whole fictitious sob-story was meant to secure the job offer. ..However, when his eyes are met by HABITS, woeful eyes seem to bore into him, pierce the shell, and suddenly.. He’d like to embrace HABIT, put an arm over his shoulder, spoil him, something.  He’s been met with the eyes of a wounded soul and lost man. He freezes a moment. “... You’ve been dealt a horrible hand, you know that..?” A beat. “I’m.. Proud you’re still here, paisan. For what it’s worth.” He looks over at him. “..I’m not terribly sure what I’d have done myself.”  ..He looks back at the counter a moment, the fingers of a hand digging into the fabric of his sleeve. “.. Listen... You know this job comes with a hefty set of terms, but. I’ve come to a conclusion. I think you’re more than capable.” Unfolding his arms, he turns to face him, resting his hands on his knees.  “.. When someone asks you about your job, you say you’re the royal scientist’s right-hand man, errand-boy, assistant, whatever. It doesn’t matter who asks, doesn’t matter if it’s the damn king, but here’s the truth.” His voice is low and hushed.  “I don’t need an errand-boy. I needed a hit-man. A fighter. Someone as cutthroat as yourself, someone to test my arsenal at will, home-brew weapons suited for the humans above. I’m certain you’ll enjoy my toys.” He almost smirks. “... You see, it’s my personal belief that research holds priority over ethics. As you can figure, such a controversial belief is more than a crime in itself. Thus, you cannot breathe word of such matters. You are sworn to an oath of secrecy; what is done and known on the job is between you and I..” ..Aster looks through HABIT. “... Failure to keep this oath, or general insubordination will cost you your life. Don’t make me have to do that to you, HABIT; I don’t want to hurt you, too. But this isn’t a job you can back out of and resign, that to is a punishable offense. Consider it a contract binding you to the end of your days; what you know now is plenty secret enough.”  He reclines a bit. “.. But I will see to it this job is one you won’t want to leave behind. Whether this cold world likes it or not.. HABIT, you are on a tier of royalty, effective immediately.” He offers a warm smile, as well as his hand. “It will be a pleasure to work alongside you, and with your communication, I will do all I can to make your experience just as well, you know, the whole nine-yards.. Aha, if you’d so like, I could arrange living quarters for you in the castle as soon as tomorrow..! Wanted to let you know you’d had it made.” A soft laugh. He hopes the success brings his mood back up, in truth, gives him life again. Give him rest, hope, something. Anything.

Oh, he’s fine, thank heavens! There’s a contented sigh. “Good, good. I was rather worried... It is not so often I have to drag monsters like you out here, so I must apologize..” For something that breaks his own moral code, he’s going about it very business-like. And for what? “This is... Well, er,.. Nowhere, specifically, yes.. It’s, a little hard to explain. Explaining who I am is.. Just as hard. But you may call me, Dr. Gaster. It’s a pleasure to have your acquaintance..! Even if it was not requested.” He seems very, very nervous. He shifts his weight, and drags himself closer to Kabel and offering him a hand. “I brought you here, for some questions..! This will be very quick, they’re just, very important. Do you understand..?” There’s a pause. “You do live in Snowdin, do you not..? Do you, know a Sans or Papyrus. It’s, very, very important..” ..He seems very, antsy all of the sudden.

The Deal Breaker

Could someone be a little nervous, here…? Oh, if he had the gall, he’d laugh. .. That said, another low chuckle inks its way across the bar top. “I understand entirely. In fact, such experience is in your favor, so long as you can keep up, per se.” He waves a hand nonchalantly, as if such a heavy statement meant so little. He looks over at him and his suit again, cracking a smile. “Well, there you go. I appreciate you upholding the trend. In fullest truth.. Not enough creatures here know how to take care of themselves, you know.” He tugs at his shirt collar, referencing their garb for fashion this time. He hopes it throws HABIT off, helps him ease.  There’s a pause, and he nods, humming a note’s confirmation. “A drink, or what have you, really.” Another smile, watching the bartender now when an order is passed. There’s minute clinks of glass mingled into the conversation like it’s own cocktail, if only for the moment. “..HABIT, my boy; it’s a pleasure indeed.”  Suddenly, it seems HABIT managed to accidentally snag him with a hook of his own. He cannot contain his response but only barely, and eye takes a fuchsia tint before returning to that slate white. “.. You know, I’ve thought the same things. But when the king’s throwing you to the dogs– literally, sometimes, oh, sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands, no?..” When the drink reaches HABIT, he eyes the bartender sharply, and he leaves almost immediately. “…The king.. Most certainly is, my boy. And there are just some things he doesn’t have to know about. Such as, the dust on your hands. The dust in this room. It’s such tricky business.. And when your brains are virtually irreplaceable, well..!” A silence, letting him drink a moment. “.. But I haven’t heard enough about my applicant here– what would you be willing to tell, HABIT? I have no place to judge, as I cannot, of course. Literally, by oath. ” He finally takes a shallow swig from his own drink, practically brooding over it. 

He blinks once, and nods graciously. “But of course, my boy. You have your responsibilities and you uphold them-- this is a good trait to have, definitely. Am I wrong?” He watches him look away, curious. He bows his head with a faux grief, albeit knowingly. There’s a gentle sigh, his next statement grumbled. “It’s the terrible truth. No respect, nor, self-respect. I’m at least delighted there’s someone who understands my own woes.” A low, quiet laugh.  .. There’s a pause more as his words sink into HABIT. There is a sense of knowing, but.. If he’d known he saw him slip at the mention of Asgore, that fleeting moment of enthusiasm to sully and trash the name, he’d be embarrassed to hell and back. And yet another reaction? Splendid, yes; looks like another nail hit on the head to him. His expression lets on nothing of this extent, however. “.. Do tell.” He straightens his back a touch, glancing over at HABIT mournfully. For a moment, Aster doesn’t realize his genuine pity, even when faced with his building vehemence. He nods again, nice and slow. “I’m afraid so, I’ve been, cheated before. Abandoned, slandered. But not like you, it would seem..?” There’s a beat, before his glance seems to change it’s own tone to a more, cooperative sort as he leans forward again, towards HABIT whispering a gravely serious offer in attempt to console him through a narrowed set of eyes. Internally, he ponders how far his fury can go.  “.. Who wronged you, mio amico...? I can see to it they have hell to pay..”