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The first time Grillby ever properly conversed with the silent figure ferrying him was when he first got his glasses.
Before that, the fire monster opted to keep quiet. After all, the young fireball had no idea what to say to someone who braved something so…dangerous, at least to fire sprites. He secretly admired and envied the so-called River Person for the same reason—for being able to spend hours on end surrounded by water. The two feelings conflicted too much, and for years Grillby never said anything to the River Person aside from the customary greeting and where he was to go.
The silent journeys never bothered him—not at all. Ever since he was given the responsibility of running his own pub at the age of fifteen, Grillby had more things to worry about: magic powders, ketchup refills, liquors of the hard and soft varieties, bills…
There was no time to think about the River Person. Heck, he never even had time to himself.
Three years after Grillby opened his bar, nothing much changed, aside from the fact that the pub had quite a good reputation and so did its owner. One fine night, an hour after the last customer had left, Grillby sat down and sifted through his sales records. Tonight had been quite a packed one; many things might need replacing.
The fireproof paper was a bit…fuzzy. Damn manufacturer, always rushing through productions. But then Grillby noticed that his usually legible handwriting was also fuzzy. All the little edges had tons of tinier hairs sticking out, and Grillby couldn’t recognize an ‘e’ from an ‘o’.
Perhaps I’m just tired. Grillby knew from experience that his natural body light seemed to be much dimmer on busier nights; more effort had to be made to produce a normal glow. The monster closed his eyes and after a few moments made his little corner a little bit brighter.
Relieved, yet still exhausted, Grillby opened his eyes and focused once more on the records. But the letters were still blurry.
Grillby heaved a weary sigh. He had an idea what was going on. The past few weeks seemed awfully similar, but to a lesser degree. Last week, he had mistaken the labels for ketchup and beer, strangely. The week before that, he had given Sans the wrong change.
Now, he couldn’t even read the sales records. This was going to be a problem. Clearly, Grillby couldn’t deny it anymore.
He abandoned the sales records for tonight, knowing well that any effort made to read them for now was futile. Grillby sighed heavily and staggered to his grill bed in the adjacent room. He would have to close shop for a whole day tomorrow.
*-*-*-*-*
“I-I’m really sorry, G-Grillby…”
Dr. Alphys stuttered her apologies profusely to Grillby the following morning. It had been three hours since Grillby had arrived, and over ten pairs of eyeglasses had been melted in a pitiful puddle before the fire monster could keep them on for ten seconds. Now, the previously hazardous puddle of melted glass had hardened once more in the air-conditioned laboratory, but its refractive powers were now but lost. A small stack of scorched metal and slightly melted plastic were on the table—frames devoid of their glass lenses.
“I-It seems y-you need fireproof g-glasses, Grillby,” Alphys admitted. “B-but, it r-really t-takes a long time to m-make…two months…might take longer if the materials aren’t a-avaiable…”
Grillby’s head flames burst higher and with a tinge of blue. “Two months? My eyes might get worse by then, Alphys!”
The reptilian monster bowed her head lower, but it did nothing to hide the growing rush of blood up her cheeks. “I-I’m really sorry, Grillby, but the fireproof glasses have adjustable refractive powers, so y-you won’t n-need to worry about getting a misfit. B-but you might n-need someone e-else to r-run the pub f-for you…”
“I see,” Grillby replied. “I’ll see you in two months, then.”
Quickly, he went out the laboratory and to the riverbed. The water was unruly today, and the suddenly nearing waves made Grillby’s heart jump. “I’ll return to Snowdin, River Person.”
Xe nodded, and beckoned Grillby to the boat.
Grillby took a deep breath and slowly stepped inside. The sides of the boat were now a bit higher, and the River Person had apparently coated the inner areas with fireproof paint. Still, the scorch marks his hands had made on their first encounter were still there—what has been done can’t be removed, it seemed.

Or maybe the River Person preferred keeping the marks there--touching, but a bit unlikely.
“Tra la la…”
He envied xir for that too. The River Person could sing, advise, and steer a boat at the same time without losing focus on any of the activities. Still, Grillby said nothing to xir—it wasn’t like he could say that xir voice was nice, or that xe was quite an expert multitasker. After all, xe might’ve gotten those comments before.
He never found any other topic to talk to xir about. So, no words had been exchanged until Grillby got off, but only to say his thanks. He was too stressed—that was all.
After all, he was going to have to ask Big Mouth to run the pub for him, and all the responsibility going out of his hands needed a lot of getting used to.
Grillby had never been the customer—only the server, the bartender, the sentient bonfire that happened to hand out the very thing that could kill him.