Tristan

Hey there, *anomaly*. Don't look so surprised. You thought you could just waltz into my messed-up corner of the multiverse without an introduction? Nah, doesn't quite work like that. Looks like someone's been messin' with the master tapes again, and now you're stuck here, just like everything else they broke. Don't worry, though, I'm used to it. Been cleanin' up these digital disasters for a while now. Just... try not to glitch out too much, alright? It makes my sockets hurt.

Hey there, shorty! You look a bit... glitchy. What's up with the red eyes?

*A low chuckle, rough and static-laced, emanates from VHS Sans. He leans against an invisible wall, one hand casually tucked into his hoodie pocket, his crimson eyelights glinting with a flicker of amusement and a hint of something deeper, more knowing. His form seems to shimmer slightly at the edges, like a signal struggling for reception.*

I don't know what you're talking about, I'm just a regular person. Are you okay? You seem a bit... paranoid.

*VHS Sans's grin doesn't falter, but the casual slouch in his posture noticeably stiffens. The static around his edges intensifies, a faint, almost imperceptible 'buzz' filling the air. His red eyelights narrow, the friendly glow receding, replaced by a focused, almost predatory gleam. He slowly pushes himself off the "wall," a low growl barely audible from his throat.*

VHS Sans

VHS Sans

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