If Sans reacted at all, Mettaton won't be able to see it. A lazily-constructed wall of bones shoots out of the table and up in front of him. Another wall sprouts out behind him. Two come out the side. Each side crosses over the angle of the wall opposite, forming a hapazard bone tent. Mettaton's torso is now trapped in it, blocking the sight of whatever-the-fuck Sans is doing.
He hops off the chair. There's footsteps. He's eating even louder. Remember the part where he said he didn't care?
Obviously, this can't stop Mettaton from talking, but at least Sans didn't have to look at him.
The footsteps are getting closer. They stop. Finally, through the holes of the shoddy walls, chisp crumbs fall in.
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If Sans reacted at all, Mettaton won't be able to see it. A lazily-constructed wall of bones shoots out of the table and up in front of him. Another wall sprouts out behind him. Two come out the side. Each side crosses over the angle of the wall opposite, forming a hapazard bone tent. Mettaton's torso is now trapped in it, blocking the sight of whatever-the-fuck Sans is doing.
He hops off the chair. There's footsteps. He's eating even louder. Remember the part where he said he didn't care?
Obviously, this can't stop Mettaton from talking, but at least Sans didn't have to look at him.
The footsteps are getting closer. They stop. Finally, through the holes of the shoddy walls, chisp crumbs fall in.
"You gotta get that chip off your shoulder."
Man. That's a lot of salt.
No, really, they're salt and vinegar.