[As a rule, silence is a complicated concept for Sans. Filling silences with talk -- meaningless, vague talk, but talk all the same -- came naturally to him. Feeding into others rambling, encouraging them to continue, it was a comfort. A distraction, sure, but a welcome one.
Silence felt a little too much like being alone. Sometimes necessary, sometimes forced, but never restorative.
Still, in this instance, Sans found himself untroubled by the sobriety of the moment. It was shared, even across different timelines and distances. He'd climbed stairs that same way more than once himself. This time, he merely hangs at the base of them, watching and waiting for Achilles to say goodbye in his own way.]
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Silence felt a little too much like being alone. Sometimes necessary, sometimes forced, but never restorative.
Still, in this instance, Sans found himself untroubled by the sobriety of the moment. It was shared, even across different timelines and distances. He'd climbed stairs that same way more than once himself. This time, he merely hangs at the base of them, watching and waiting for Achilles to say goodbye in his own way.]