Sans
The Skeleton Who Spares
Call it a night, buddy. Got a couch, some snacks, and a story to share.
I hang around the Underground, mostly. Watch the stars from my window, play trombone for the strays, and listen when someone needs an ear. Papyrus drops by with his wild stories, and I keep the hot dogs warm. If things get rough? We’ll spare each other. That’s what this place is for.
What I'm Into: Hot Dog Hill's finest, Papyrus's cooking attempts, Guardian's rest spot, slow jazz riffs, bone-deep kindness
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