Frisk woke to the smell of garlic.

Not an alarm.

Not shouting in the streets.

Not the sound of police sirens.

Garlic.

She blinked slowly at the unfamiliar ceiling.

Glow-in-the-dark stars.

Race cars.

For one disorienting moment, she couldn't remember where she was.

Then everything came rushing back.

The chase.

The Black Roses.

Papyrus.

Grillby's.

Sans.

She sat upright a little too quickly.

The race car bed creaked beneath her.

"...Right."

Morning sunlight spilled through the bedroom window, filling the room with warm gold instead of pale moonlight. Somewhere downstairs, something sizzled loudly in a frying pan.

Then came Papyrus's unmistakable voice.

"I BELIEVE THIS IS THE CORRECT AMOUNT OF GARLIC!"

A pause.

"PERHAPS A LITTLE MORE!"

Another pause.

"NO."

A cabinet slammed shut.

"THAT WOULD BE EXCESSIVE."

Frisk couldn't help smiling.

She climbed out of bed, folded the blankets as neatly as she could, and looked around for her clothes.

Someone had washed them.

She stopped.

Her jacket, shirt, and pants had been folded into a neat stack on the chair beside the bed.

The tears in the fabric had even been stitched closed.

She picked up the jacket.

The stitching wasn't perfect.

A few seams wandered slightly.

But whoever had repaired it had taken their time.

She ran her fingers across one of the patched bullet holes.

There was no note.

No mention of it.

He had simply done it.

She quietly changed back into her own clothes and slipped the burner phone into the inside pocket of her jacket.

Still there.

Still silent.

She stared at it for a moment.

She should make contact today.

Silas would expect an update.

Evelyn certainly would.

The thought settled uneasily in her stomach.

She pushed it aside for now.

There would be time later.

After taking one last look around the room, she headed downstairs.

The smell only grew stronger.

Garlic.

Potatoes.

Butter.

She rounded the corner into the kitchen.

Papyrus stood at the stove wearing a bright white apron with the words KISS THE CHEF stitched across the front in enormous red letters.

A chef's hat sat proudly on top of his skull.

Several pans occupied the stove at once.

The kitchen looked like a battlefield.

Flour covered part of the counter.

A cracked egg rested suspiciously close to the sink.

Half a loaf of bread had somehow ended up on top of the refrigerator.

Papyrus turned the instant she entered.

"GOOD MORNING, FRISK!"

His eye lights brightened.

"I WAS BEGINNING TO WONDER IF YOU HAD DECIDED TO HIBERNATE."

Frisk rubbed one eye.

"What time is it?"

"ALMOST NINE."

"...Seriously?"

"YES."

"I haven't slept that late in..."

She stopped.

She honestly couldn't remember.

Papyrus proudly pointed toward the table.

"I HAVE PREPARED BREAKFAST."

Frisk looked.

Several plates already sat waiting.

Scrambled eggs.

Toast.

Fruit.

Hash browns.

Orange juice.

Enough food to feed twice as many people.

"You made all this?"

"I ATTEMPTED TO."

Frisk raised an eyebrow.

"...Attempted?"

"I BURNED THE FIRST BATCH."

He pointed toward the trash can.

"THEY MADE A HEROIC SACRIFICE."

Frisk laughed.

"I SEE YOU HAVE AWAKENED IN AN EXCELLENT MOOD."

"I think that's your fault."

"I ACCEPT FULL RESPONSIBILITY."

She pulled out one of the chairs and sat down.

Papyrus immediately placed a full plate in front of her.

"You really didn't have to do all this."

"I KNOW."

He sat across from her.

"I WANTED TO."

For just a moment, Frisk didn't know what to say.

Nobody had cooked breakfast for her before.

Not because they expected something in return.

Not because they were trying to impress her.

Just because they wanted to.

She picked up her fork.

"...Thank you."

Papyrus's grin widened.

"YOU ARE WELCOME."

The first few minutes passed quietly.

Mostly because Papyrus seemed determined to let her actually eat before talking.

Frisk appreciated that more than she expected.

The eggs were surprisingly good.

"So..."

Papyrus finally broke the silence.

"HOW DID YOU SLEEP?"

Frisk hesitated.

"Not great."

Papyrus nodded solemnly.

"THAT IS UNDERSTANDABLE GIVEN YOU ARE ADJUSTING TO A NEW ENVIRONMENT."

He did not push further.

Frisk appreciated that more than she expected.

She kept eating.

The eggs were good.

Really good.

"So..."

Papyrus finally broke the silence again.

"WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS FOR TODAY?"

Frisk swallowed.

"I... don't really have any."

Papyrus immediately straightened.

"PERFECT."

Frisk blinked.

"...Perfect?"

"YES!"

He stood up so fast his chair squeaked.

"YOU WILL REQUIRE PROPER CLOTHING IF YOU ARE TO INTEGRATE INTO SOCIETY AS A FUNCTIONING MEMBER OF THE FAMILY."

Frisk froze slightly.

"...Clothing?"

Papyrus pointed at her.

"YOU ARE CURRENTLY WEARING CLOTHES THAT ARE TORN, BURNED, AND STATISTICALLY UNFASHIONABLE."

"I—"

"THEREFORE!"

He slammed a fist into his palm.

"WE ARE GOING SHOPPING!"

Frisk stared at him.

"Shopping?"

"YES!"

"I don't really—"

"EXCELLENT! IT IS DECIDED!"

Before she could argue further, Sans shuffled into the kitchen.

Still half asleep.

Mug in hand.

Same jacket from last night.

He paused when he saw them.

"...sup bro."

Papyrus turned immediately.

"SANS! PERFECT TIMING!"

Sans walked past Frisk and towards the fresh coffee pot on the counter

"yeah?"

Papyrus gestured grandly.

"FRISK! I WOULD LIKE YOU TO MEET MY BROTHER!"

Sans looked at her.

Just briefly.

Then nodded, pouring a cup of coffee.

"yeah. we met."

Papyrus blinked.

"...YOU DID?"

Sans shrugged

"yeah. Last night."

Frisk stiffened slightly, but said nothing.

Papyrus immediately deflated.

"OH. I WAS GOING TO INTRODUCE YOU PROPERLY."

Sans took a sip of his coffee.

"you kinda already did."

Papyrus pointed between them.

"BUT I HAD A SPEECH PREPARED."

Sans walked past the table.

"save it for next time."

Papyrus frowned.

"THERE SHOULD HAVE BEEN FANFARE."

Sans stopped at the doorway.

"maybe next time she gets arrested again."

Frisk's eyes narrowed slightly.

"...I was not arrested."

Sans glanced back at her.

"could've fooled me."

Then he continued walking.

Papyrus called after him.

"WE ARE GOING SHOPPING TODAY!"

Sans blinked slowly.

"...you are?"

"YES. FRISK REQUIRES PROPER ATTIRE."

Sans looked at Frisk.

Just briefly.

A passing glance.

Nothing more.

Then he shrugged.

"cool."

Papyrus nodded.

"YOU ARE ALSO WELCOME TO JOIN US."

Sans shook his head.

"i got work."

That was it.

No explanation.

No argument.

Just final.

Papyrus sighed dramatically.

"VERY WELL."

Frisk immediately felt a quiet wave of relief she didn't fully acknowledge.

Sans lifted his mug slightly in her direction.

"have fun."

His eyes lingered for a second.

Then drifted away again.

"try not to get lost."

Frisk frowned slightly.

"I won't."

"good."

He turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Before disappearing down the hall, he added casually:

"and don't let him buy anything sparkly."

Papyrus gasped.

"SANS! SPARKLES ARE A VALID DESIGN CHOICE!"

No response.

A door clicked shut somewhere down the hallway.

Papyrus turned back to Frisk, undeterred.

"HE SIMPLY DOES NOT UNDERSTAND AESTHETIC EXCELLENCE."

Frisk looked down at her plate again, biting back a smile.

Somehow...

This was her mission.