The snow was gentle as it fell, muffling the sound of footsteps. Frisk trudged forward with cautious eyes, her breath forming soft clouds in the cold. As she rounded a bend, she froze.
"HUMAN!!"
Papyrus burst onto the path, red scarf trailing behind him like a cape in the wind. His arms were raised dramatically.
"WE MEET AGAIN! THIS TIME, YOU SHALL NOT PASS WITHOUT BESTING MY DEVIOUS TRAPS!"
Frisk blinked. "...Traps?"
Sans stood nearby, lazily leaning against a tree. "he means the stuff up ahead. just smile and humor him, kid."
Frisk offered a slight smile, barely more than a twitch of the lips.
Papyrus gestured to a snowball, some dog treats, and a plate of spaghetti. "BEHOLD! TRAP NUMBER ONE! THE SNOWBALL OF DOOM!"
Frisk stepped up and lightly kicked the snowball.
It crumbled into powder.
"IMPOSSIBLE!" Papyrus shouted. "YOU POSSESS INCREDIBLE STRENGTH!"
Frisk murmured, "It was... just snow."
"DON'T UNDERESTIMATE SNOWBALL ENGINEERING!" he barked. "ON TO TRAP TWO! THE DOG TREATS OF DISTRACTION!"
A dog zoomed in from nowhere, gobbling up the treats and then flopping down happily.
"BAD DOG! THOSE WERE SUPPOSED TO CONFUSE THE HUMAN, NOT BE CONSUMED!"
Sans chuckled. "treats aren't the only thing gettin' eaten up today."
"NO PUNS, SANS!"
Finally, Papyrus unveiled a plate of spaghetti. It steamed slightly, but had clearly been sitting in the snow for a while. "THIS… THIS IS MY FINAL TRAP! SPAGHETTI SO DELICIOUS, YOU WILL BE UNABLE TO RESIST!"
Frisk crouched next to it and gave it a careful sniff. Then looked at Papyrus.
"…It's cold."
Papyrus blinked. "I—I MADE IT THIS MORNING! IT'S STILL GOOD!"
Frisk stood. "Thanks, but... I'll pass."
"YOU… REFUSED MY COOKING!?"
She tilted her head. "It was... nice of you, though."
Papyrus froze, uncertain whether to be insulted or flattered.
Frisk smiled faintly, gave a small wave, and continued walking down the path.
Papyrus slumped dramatically. "YOU MAY HAVE BESTED MY TRAPS… BUT NEXT TIME WILL BE DIFFERENT! YOU WON'T ESCAPE MY SPAGHETTI!"
Sans sidled up beside him. "hey, bro. next time, maybe serve it warm."
"THIS IS NO TIME FOR COOKING CRITICISM, SANS!"
Frisk's footsteps faded into the woods.