sans.

                                                            JUST SHAKE MY HAND.”

“Okay…then, what are you doing here?”

“I was just takin’ a nap. I'm bone tired.”

        ‘ no, i DON’T, ‘ are his biting words. how many times has he seen this guy? there’s no way in HELL that it was coincidence—at least, that’s what his jumping-to-conclusions head liked to believe. ‘ are you stalking me, or WHAT?? ‘

“I get it. You seem like more of a hot cat kinda guy.” Sans throws an oblong piece of quasi-meat on the grill. “Kid. If you’re feelin’ threatened by me, well... Let’s just say you gotta get your priorities in order."

“I’m a traitor,                              a rebel,                                                 a CRYSTAL GEMMMMMM!” 

                                                                                But nobody came.

        By the time the last word rolled off his tongue his voice had         reach that high pitch squeak. Usually when the Pines         reached that level of volume it was due to being frighten,         and he was. Anyone his age would be as well, after all one         minute he’s wandering about then next it’s dark and spooky.         Surely one small noise would startle him, thus, he was         prepared. He had a tendency to go off on his own so a bat         was handy if danger struck. Well that depended on what         exactly it was going up against. Hopefully Dipper didn’t need         to use it against anything too scary like a skeleton.

Sans emerged from the darkness, white bone in stark contrast to the bleak surroundings, a hand raised both in greeting and as a gesture of pacification. “You won’t have to, kid. I’m too bonely to hurt anybody.” 

“… That’s not very Christmas-y, Sans.”

Sans shrugs, a slight jerk of the shoulders weighed down by three pounds of candy. “Neither’s being impatient. Keep it up and you won’t get anything from Sans-ta Claus.”

“… You’re standing in front of the candy canes. Move.”

“Just a second, kid.” Sans pours the entire bowl of candy canes into his jacket pockets before moving out of the way. “All yours.”

  ‘ IF IT BLOWS UP, I WARNED YOU. ‘

“I’ll keep that in mind. Hand over that screwdriver, will ya?”