Staring dead ahead, Sans listened in silence. There were names that were both completely new to him, and yet so familiar all the same. Flowey? An echo flower, he found himself thinking distantly, for all his mind supplied an uncharacteristic yellow tint to those words. His confusion there didn't even begin to touch the whirlwind of conflicting emotions when Frisk mentioned a mother.

It didn't make any sense, but somehow, Sans knew they were referring to the woman behind the door. Sans felt his chest ache. Did she survive after all?

"Go on," he managed, voice even.