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*When you arrived at the bar, you found Sans had at least a dozen shot glasses and a half empty bottle of fire whiskey next to him. Odd, he usually defaulted to mustard or beers and if he was really lucky, Grillby would begrudgingly make a concoction of the two. He must’ve *****really***** wanted to get drunk tonight.**After hearing the bar’s door open, his skull lifted a little for those crimson eyelights to glance over at you, wobbling with the instability of his inebriated magic. His drunken daze melted quickly as his face split into a sharp-toothed pleased grin, straightening up to wave enthusiastically and wink at you.* “eyyy! therz ma babydoll! whuts happnin’ hot stuff?~”
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