Extra 2; Not Very Sly

"Good evening, Grillby." The royal scientist trudged into the Snowdin bar, stomping the snow off of his dress shoes and approaching the counter. The place was lit with hurricane lamps and candle sconces, due to the lack of power to the small town. Most of the light came from the fire elemental. The elemental and bartender turned to him, a small smile greeting him.

"Evening, Doctor. Usual?" He turned back to the backbar, going about his business. Said doctor settled down into his bar stool, slumping a little with a grunt.

"Please."

"You alright?" Grillby glanced over his shoulder.

"Yes, just exhausted. The Core is draining me of all my resources, monetarily, supply-wise, and physically." He mumbled as he leaned his head in his hands, a fabric brace still wrapped around one of the appendages. The bartender swirled the mulled wine in his hand before placing it in front of the skeleton. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. You'll get it up and running; you're stubborn like that." Grillby scoffed. For a moment, he thought he saw the man's white pinpricks for eyes flash a hint of skepticism, but it digressed.

"I prefer the term 'resolute,' thank you." Gaster had a hint of ice to his tone. He noted a scent stuck to the outside of his glass, thick and chemical. He brought his hand up to his chin again, discreetly checking to see if he had spilled anything on it during his workday. Nothing. Grillby gave a small smirk at his friend's demeanor, but was quickly distracted by a habitual anxious urge.

"I'm gonna go clean the grill, I'll be right back." Before Gaster could say anything, Grillby slipped into the back, darting immediately for the backdoor. Shutting it behind him, the elemental pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with his shaking hand. "Finally…" He leaned against the wall of the bar with a sharp exhale. The was snow melted from the countless times he's taken breaks there. A dog food dish sat a few feet away, filled with grey snow and packs of spent cigarette butts. Undamaged packs of cigarettes were difficult to come by underground, thus were quite expensive. Most of Grillby's personal money was spent on this horrible habit. No more than three minutes later, he dropped the butt into the bowl, pulled out a small tin from his pocket, and chewed on a mint from it. He glanced at the grill when he came back in. It can wait.

While his long-term friend was 'cleaning the grill,' Gaster took the time to investigate his glass. Being there was no one else in the bar due to a snowstorm, he was not embarrassed to sniff the outside of the class. If the smell had not been from his hands, it had to have been from Grillby's, he deduced. He knew that smell, and it was smoky enough to still be relatively recent. The nosey scientist glanced at the backroom door before he leaned over the bar, looking for any signs. Sitting back down, he saw an approaching orange glow from the beyond the backdoor.

"So, how's Hotland treatin' ya?" Grillby inquired as he returned.

"I've been utilizing the excessive heat output. Still don't understand why you don't set up shop there; surely, you would be far more comfortable." As the smoker sighed, Gaster took note to the residual smell of a cigarette and… mint?

"I've told you; it doesn't suit the bar's style. Hotland isn't exactly calm or a place that people go to relax." Yes, that was definitely mint on the monster's breath. Does he seriously think that a mint will help?

"True. How's little Fuku?" Gaster remembered how Grillby and Helies, his sister, had yet another fight. The elemental groaned as he polished a glass.

"Helies has had a problem with me being around her lately. Fuku wants to be with me, I don't see what the problem is." Gaster could make a decent guess… "She's been having a few small issues with controlling her flames, and Helies doesn't know much about that. She knows that I can help."

"You need to keep your calm, Grillbert, you cannot snap at her like when you were kids."

"I don't! She just can't let one thing go…"

"It's going to take time, even if it's centuries." Gaster watched as Grillby fought back his tongue; he had a tendency to defend himself.

"I'll… be back…" He passed through the swinging backdoor, but Gaster caught sight of him pulling a cigarette from his pocket when the door swung back. Grillby slunk back to his spot against the outside wall, grateful he did not need to fidget with a lighter. "Fuck… this…" Closing his eyes, he rested his head back and took a massive drag.

"Care to explain…" Grillby near screamed when his friend's voice threatened him, inhaling so fast he delved into coughs.

"Fuck's sake, Gaster! Stop doing that!" The skeleton's face contorted to a rage Grillby had not seen since the war. The white bone was already shading a slight purple.

"Stop doing that? Stop doing that? You think I'm the one who needs to stop? You've come out to smoke twice since I've come in; and look at this!" He walked over and picked up the dog bowl of cigarette butts. "When was this emptied, yesterday?" Grillby looked away, getting rather pissed now.

"Three days ago, don't be ridiculo-"

"There's probably close to thirty, maybe even forty in here!"

"Like it matters, I'm made of fire, smoke does nothing to m-"

"Nothing?" The skeleton gripped Grillby's collar as he dropped the bowl, pressing him against the wall. Grillby was too shocked to retaliate. Gaster's face was nearly enveloped in a dark purple now, his canines becoming rather prominent as he bore them dangerous, his words biting sickeningly. "Do you remember nothing of the smoke bombs? I spent days healing your people! How fucking dare you-" He pulled back and hit the man into the wall just hard enough to shake him "-claim that it does nothing! Do you have any idea-" Gaster dropped his collar to smack him across the face. "-what is in that? It's more than just smoke! Your health is bad enough as it is, and you're going to destroy yourself like this?" The hand came back again. "Do you want to fucking dowse? I risked myself, hundreds of times, to save you!" Gaster grabbed his shirt and, with impressive strength for the thin man, threw the former general to the ground. Reaching down, he ripped the cigarette pack from Grillby's pocket, opened them up, and disposing of them into the half-melted snow, ruining them more as he ground his heel into them. "Well, I'm not going to let all my work go to waste because of your stupidity! So, you know what…" He pulled another pack from his own pocket this time, doing the same thing to them. Grillby, fearful from never having seen his friend like this before, looked up confused to him. Gaster reached down and helped the elemental up, still a bit rough with him. "Either you cut this shit out, or I'm done with you. Got it?" Shoving him against the wall one more time, Gaster walked around the corner of the building, still scowling.

Grillby just stared at the corner, feeling both sides of his face starting to swell from the abuse. The dog bowl was spilled over the ground, mixed in with the crushed, wasted smokes.

Gaster cursed as he got a shock as he wired a panel for a steam vent. He mood had not improved since last night, and it seemed to only deter his work. Many of his coworkers had decided to give him his space, assuming that he was just exhausted from the past month. For that past month, he had been attempting to quit smoking, but his temperance suffered.

"Fucking… damn it…" Out of habit, he reached in his pocket, only to find it empty. Working on wires with shaking bones was never a good idea, but he had a job to do. He glanced behind him, letting out a small whine at the mere four feet from him and the edge that plunged down to the magma below. His minor fear of heights did not help either. The walkway he was on was stable, but the way footsteps echoed on it set him on edge. Bad pun… ugh… Most the time he shuffled in half-strides down it.

A moment or two later, he felt said footsteps vibrating down towards him. He was not in the mood for more bad news. "What is it this time?" When he didn't get an answer, he nearly lost it. "What-" He stopped himself. "Grillbert?"

Gaster was not only shocked to see him, but immensely concerned. There was security to get through; not only that, but he had to have gone through half of the Core to get to him. The dangers were endless… He was wearing his usual white button down, vest, slacks, and dress shoes, but held a paper bag filled with… something.

"What do you think you're doing here, it's dangerous?" Gaster did not move, afraid he'd disturb something that was sleeping… or waiting. Grillby looked at the walkway, then to the scientist, detached. He tossed the bag to the side, over the edge. As it fell, close to twenty packs of cigarettes spilled out, slapping into the magma, immediately combusting. A thick, recognizable smoke wafted up to them. "You…" Was all Gaster could say. Grillby pocketed his hands, turning away and retreated to where he had come.

. .

Author's Notes: Bad title, I know, shush... This is the backstory to Grillby's chain smoking problem. While he's taken quite the beating from the war, being beaten by your nearly lifelong companion sure does rattle you!
There was a small easter egg in this. The line "Gaster did not move, afraid he'd disturb something that was sleeping… or waiting" references to when Gaster would have died in this timeline in the Core, if he had moved. Gaster was always careful on the platforms, but he would have been too distracted by his friend, didn't notice his footing, and slips. From then on, Grillby would have remained silent due to his guilt. He only speaks at the true pacifist end when he thanks Frisk.

I only have one more extra for you, and it is more of a plot springboard. It will not be a part of what would have actually happened, but just a general brainstorm.

Stay Safe, Lovelies~!