Unconsciousness, I must admit, was not an unfamiliar thing to me.

For as much as I hated the university and its professors who denied me access to the labs, they were right about one thing: runes were dangerous. Of course, the danger to me would have been much neutralized had I been working in a proper lab, not to mention with medical attention available at all times, but I had been left alone in the mountains. As was such, my experiments and mistakes often had... explosive results. And I frequently ended up unconscious from the blast.

Not to mention the early phases of the flyer. I had, on occasion, crashed headfirst into the ground, and...

Well. Like I said. I had probably been unconscious more times in my life than was good. And I would be knocked out many times more throughout my existence.

So when I woke, it was to a throbbing shoulder and a pounding headache, but not to surprise or shock.

Granted, getting banged up as nastily as I had still resulted in a little mental trauma, and I found myself struggling to remember what had happened.

My confusion only increased when I realized I was not on the ground (well, okay, I kinda was, but we'll get to that) nor the floor of one of my lab caverns. I was tucked into a sleeping bag, my skull resting on what had to have been just about the most fluffy pillow I had ever had the pleasure of resting my head on.

Of course, that cannot be said without a grain of salt; I had not rested my head on a pillow in quite a few years. I didn't even have a bed in my cave system, just a loose pile of blankets in a corner that served that purpose on the few occasions when the need arose. You see, I was always a high-energy monster, and that combined with my drive and dedication to my work made it so I more often than not worked myself completely metaphorically to the bone before completely crashing right where I was after several days without rest. Most of the time, really, I didn't even realize I had been up for so long.

So I rarely even made it to my pile of blankets.

Regardless. I was snugly snuggled in a sleeping bag, with a pillow under my skull. As I woke up a little more, I saw I was also in a small tent. It was the tent that helped me remember; it was purple with the Delta Rune on the canvas sides. The color and the rune triggered my memory, the people, the chase, the break, the crash.

I let out a breath and started to sit up. A few more things immediately presented themselves to me: the tent looked big enough for another two sleeping bags. There were two there, but they were empty. Also, it appeared to be quite dark outside, as I could see the light of a fire outside, with the vague silhouettes of people outside, and I could hear the low murmur of voices and the crackle of the fire. Finally, folded next to my resting place were some clothes.

The pants I immediately disregarded. They were certainly big enough, and the thick denim would have held up well. But I still did have my clothes in my inventory, and my option was much better: cargo pants.

Cargo pants, it pains me to say, are another ingenious human invention. Thick canvas paired with thirteen large pockets made for excellence, and I don't think I owned any pants that weren't cargo pants. On top of that, putting things in the pants pockets cleared up a bit of inventory space- I always had at least two rolls of duct tape and four markers with me, split between my pockets and inventory.

So, after pulling on my own pants, I looked back to the offered articles of clothing. A simple white tee shirt that was a little loose around the shoulders for me, and a blue, fleece-lined hoodie jacket, only just a touch too big.

Looking back on it, I suppose these must have been some of Dagiel's spare clothes, as they had obviously planned to be on some trip for a while, if the tent and sleeping bags were any evidence.

The jacket was exceptionally comfortable- it would become one of my favorite pieces of clothing.

After pulling on the shirt and jacket, I staggered (my head still hurt pretty bad, and my left shoulder was burning) to the tent flap. At first, after pushing it open, I was near blinded by the fire. But as my eyes (can I really say eyes? I mean, I don't technically have eyes. But, anyway) adjusted, I saw Dagiel sitting to the left of the fire, Toriel to the right, and Firhaur  crouched across the fire from me. Between Firhaur's large paws were the remains of my flyer. He appeared to be inspecting it, talking to the others in the Common language I still could not understand. Said others were listening rather intently. None of them had noticed me.

Yet.

For a minute or two, I stood there and listened, only able to discern a word or two here. But it looked like the dragon bossmonster was explaining how my flyer worked- as if he understood how runes worked.

Of course, that was what he was doing. He was the Royal Scientist, and probably had a better grasp on runes than I did.

Not that I knew that.

I was about to learn, though, just how clever Firhaur was.

As I stepped forward, all three of the monsters looked up.

We stared at each other for a few minutes. After said few minutes, Dagiel stood from where he was sitting, and started to approach. As he opened his tooth-filled mouth, I held up a hand to silence him.

"I can't understand you anyway, so why don't you just shut up?"

He frowned, evidently not understanding me. When he started to speak again, I silenced him with a sharp glare.

When it was clear that he was not going to attempt to continue, I turned away and stalked over to where Firhaur was sitting, my broken flyer still lying at his feet. A cursory glance revealed that it was most definitely not a flyer anymore, more a pile of broken rods and nylon straps. I had hoped I would at least have been able to salvage the right wing, but it had apparently been broken just as badly as the left when I hit the ground. There would be no repairing it.

Muttering out a few angry words, I turned and started walking, striding away, out of the circle of firelight. And I merely paused, did not turn around, when I heard Firhaur.

"Wait."

I was surprised that he could Speak in Hands, but what little astonishment I couldn't stop from crossing my face was never seen, as I had my back to them.

"What?" I responded angrily.

"Where exactly are you going?" His accent was perfect, he clearly knew what he was doing.

"Home." I spat, and started forward again. Even in the darkness of the night, I recognized the plateau we were on, and knew the way to my caves easily.

"Without so much as a 'thank you' for saving your life?"

I was astonished. He couldn't be serious.

But he was.

I spun around and strode back. "Saving my life?!" I roared incredulously, with both my voice and wild hand gestures. "SAVING MY LIFE?! It's because of you that I was in that situation! I had no interest in talking to you, to any of you, yet you continued to invade my space. When I attempted to resolve the situation by leaving, you chased me. You broke my flyer, days, weeks of work, beyond repair, which also resulted in me having an injured shoulder and an aching head! And you have the nerve to ask me for thanks?! If it weren't for basic monster decency, I would punch you in the face!" This having been said, I turned to leave, then paused. "Also, I'm keeping this jacket."

Then I continued on my way, my fury only mildly soothed by the somewhat astonished look the dragon had assumed on my outburst. As I walked, I heard them talking amongst themselves.

After a moment, I heard footsteps as Firhaur followed me. "If you're so mad about it, I can make it up to you."

I steadfastly ignored him.

"I can build you a new one."

I continued to ignore him. At the time, I seriously doubted him, but now I know he easily could have done it, and probably faster than I could have.

"A better one."

I scoffed at that.

Firhaur chuckled a little at my disbelief. Of course, he knew he could, knew I was only making a fool of myself. "Fine then, at least let me offer a suggestion: instead of trying to prevent rune burnout by strengthening the runes, try adding a few runes to limit and control the amount of Magic you're running through the runes."

I was a little surprised that he knew about runes, but I figured he had only a base knowledge. Nonetheless, I couldn't resist responding. "I can't do that, genius. Then there wouldn't be enough Magic to create the wing membranes."

"That's only because of the buildup of Magic in the buffer runes, which you wouldn't need if you limited the Magic flow."

I started to give a snarky response as to why I couldn't do that either, but I realized I didn't have a snarky response to give. Firhaur was right; that would work. Grudgingly, I admitted as such.

He chuckled a little. "I've got more, if you're interested."

I stopped walking and turned to look at him, folding my arms over my chest. "Fine. I'm listening."

"Instead of using carbon fiber rods, use fiberglass. It's lighter."

"It also bends too easily."

"Not if you add a few runes for rigidness. That'd keep it in shape, and then, if you crash and tumble like you did, its natural flexibility will keep it from breaking so easily as the carbon fiber rods did."

I let out a small huff. "I suppose that might work." Then I looked up at him. "Who exactly are you, anyway?"

He smiled a little, holding out one of his large paws for a handshake. "Firhaur Wyngblaise, Royal Scientist."

I hesitated. I had no interest in sharing my name, and shaking his hand might imply that I was agreeing to be more sociable with him.

But the Royal Scientist! That had to be the only position in the royal hierarchy that I really had any respect for.

So, slowly, I reached out and shook his hand. "... WD Gaster. And, uh, college kick-out."

He laughed at the last bit. "I can't imagine someone so intelligent would have been kicked out."

I scoffed. "I was too intelligent for them. They didn't like my ideas. So they dumped me out here."

He laughed. "They can be a bit stuck up, sometimes, can't they? Too set in their ways to accept new ideas."

"That's an understatement."

He laughed again. "That is probably true, yes. Come, though, Mr. Gaster. We can spend the night at our camp, and in the morning, we shall go to your workspace. I have no doubt that if your work is half as good as your flyer, I will be duly impressed." He paused a moment. "And, my apologies about your flyer. It truly was a brilliant piece."

Put at ease by Firhaur's casual manner, my temper placated by his apology and intelligence, I agreed.

It wasn't until later that I realized I had been quite sociable with him.

§

A/N

I wanted to have a scene in here where Gaster hit Firhaur in the face with a stick, but it didn't quite fit.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! Votes and Comments are my Favorite Things, and every notification I get makes my day!