[It's early, in the day and the month, and Papyrus is still establishing what his human morning routine looks like. There's a lot of sleepy staggering about in pajamas and slippers, thanks to cold feet on colder floors and a relentless ability to feel it. A bit of finger brushing to get the early morning curls out of his eyes, sleep masking abandoned on his nightstand. A fresh Cup Of Joe, as the commercials like to call it, the smell of the roasting beans waking up something of his old skeletal self.
He has not entirely grasped the process by which human coffee is made, yet.
Half-awake and reminiscing on life underground, when he hears the sound of shuffling through a window his mind just jumps to his old nemesis. He gathers up something from the kitchen and moves to the living room's doorway.]
Hey! I have a squirt bottle, so unless you want... wet fur...?
[As it turns out, this guy in the window does not exactly resemble the intruder he was thinking of. Papyrus squints at him, bottle in hand, before giving an experimental spritz anyway.]
First impressions
He has not entirely grasped the process by which human coffee is made, yet.
Half-awake and reminiscing on life underground, when he hears the sound of shuffling through a window his mind just jumps to his old nemesis. He gathers up something from the kitchen and moves to the living room's doorway.]
Hey! I have a squirt bottle, so unless you want... wet fur...?
[As it turns out, this guy in the window does not exactly resemble the intruder he was thinking of. Papyrus squints at him, bottle in hand, before giving an experimental spritz anyway.]