Chapter Six; Nervous Apprehensions

                                    

                                          


                          
   The wind whips furiously past my face as I am engulfed in the raging blizzard around me. I pull up the hood of my jacket as the frigid air begins to sting my skull, which immediately threatens to blow it back down with its strong currents. I rub my hands together as I trudge through the knee-deep mounds of snow dotting the path, hoping to create friction for heat. It's been a long time since Snowdin has had a storm this heavy, let alone one this intense. I return my hands to my pockets as a faint orange light appears in the distance.
                          
   I figured now would be the best chance I get in a while to sneak off to Grillby's, since Papyrus will already be at work, and considering the storm, he'll probably be late to come pick me up from my sentry post. I snuck off here today for two reasons: one, because I really don't want to have to sit outside in the storm all day, and two, because I just . . . need something to put me off edge for a while.
                          
   My shoulders slump with relief as I finally arrive at my destination. A wave of heat rushes out from the building the second I pull open the dark wooden door. I step inside, fighting with the wind to pull the door closed. I finally do, and a set of bells positioned above its light chestnut coloured frame jingles melodically, letting the restaurant know that a new Monster has arrived. Everyone stops what they are doing and stare, immediately knowing who I am. Their eyes remain fixed on me as I slowly creep up to the counter, my feet leaving a tiny trail of snow on the floor behind me as I walk.
                          
   I was originally going to pull my hood down when I entered, no longer needing its cover, but now I am almost afraid to. As I pass the big table where the dogs are all seated playing cards, I can see them all whispering to each other, several of them briefly making eye contact with me. I have no doubt that after what I said yesterday, there will be rumours about Papyrus all over the Underground. Information doesn't take long to spread down here, especially gossip like this. And considering I'm Papyrus' brother, there's bound to be a lot of rumours about me too.
                          
   Grillby turns as I sit on one of the faded mahogany bar stools, the restaurant slowly beginning to resume its previous bustling noise and movement. The purple flame covering his body flickers as he approaches.
                          
   "Hello, Sans," he says, his voice muffled by the flames. Grillby is one of the only people in the Underground who I can trust.
                          
   "Heya, Grillbz," I reply. "Sorry I haven't been in here a while. A lot's been happening lately."
                          
   "I know."
                          
   There is a brief silence between us, and I sigh, the quiet being all I'm aware of until Grillby starts up again.
                          
   "You know Sans, if something is bothering you, don't be afraid to tell me. I've been worried about you, you know." Someone actually worrying about me? As if.
                          
   "Nah, Grillby, I'm fine. Don't trust whatever it is all these people have been telling you about me. If there's one thing I know about the people down here, it's that they never know when to get their noses out of other people's business. Half of what they say is stuff that never even happened. They're outta their heads."
                          
   Another silence.
                          
   Grillby puts down the cup he had been polishing, looking me straight in the eye through his rectangular glasses. "Sans, you know that I care about all of my regulars, especially you. You know that you can trust me, and that I wouldn't tell a soul."
                          
   I break eye contact, and one final silence deadens the air. Grillby sighs, defeated.
                          
   "The usual?"
                          
   I shake my head, leaning forward and placing my elbows on the counter. "Somethin' with alcohol."
                          
   He points to a drink on the menu which contains about enough alcohol to give a hangover to a flea. I shake my head again. "More than that." He moves to another drink that contains more alcohol than the first, but not by a lot. "More," I say again. He moves to the next drink which, once again, is nothing. "Just give me the hardest thing you've got," I finally say, irritated.
                          
   "Sans, are you sure you want to do this?" Grillby asks, gesturing to the hardest drink on the menu. "Even some of the guys from the Guard come in here and can't handle this one."
                          
   "I'm sure." I nod.
                          
   "Alright, whatever you say. You're the customer, after all . . ." Grillby says, hesitantly preparing the drink. When he is finished, he slides it across the counter to me.
                          
   "Thanks, Grillbz," I say, taking it in my hands. I eye it gingerly, before cautiously taking a sip. Grillby was right. The drink tastes smoky and bitter, and the alcohol taste is so strong that it burns going down. I cough as soon as the liquid is out of my mouth, having extremely underestimated this one. Grillby gives me an 'I told you so' look as I try to estimate the alcohol percentage of this drink. As far as I know, vodka and whiskey contain about 40% alcohol- how much higher is it even possible for a drink like this to go?
                          
   "Thanks Grillby," I manage to say again through the remaining burn of the drink, "j-just put it on my tab." I hold my breath and take another sip, smaller this time.
                          
   "You're never really going to pay that, are you?" Grillby asks with a concerned expression.
                          
   "Oh, sorry, Grillbz. Totally forgot." I squint as I gulp down another mouthful. Man, this stuff is strong. "I promise I'll pay it eventually. I just don't have a lot of extra G right now. You know how Papyrus gets." I take another swig, determined to finish this drink. I attempt to shift my sitting position on the stool, but end up swaying and almost falling off. This stuff is getting to me already.
                          
   "Sans, are you sure about this? Perhaps something will less alco- uh . . ." Grillby trails off as I chug down almost all of the remaining drink.
                          
   "Woaahhh, thiss drinks really givinn meh the plllural pepssssss. . ." I say, shocked at how much I'm already slurring my words. It only takes a few seconds for me to finish off the rest of the drink. I place the empty cup back down on the counter a little harder than I had intended to. "Guhhhd stufffff. . ." I grin woozily. "Cahnnnn I have a . . ." I hiccup, then ignore it and continue. "Refill? No, make that . . ." I hiccup again. "Twooo . . ."