The push of Frisk's small body isn't what Sans expects, nor does he know how to react for the first few seconds. Reconciling the overwhelming dissonance of the child in front of him and the creature that killed him was one thing, but at his core Sans found himself at a loss for how to respond to such potent grief. Whatever was twisting Frisk up inside, it was practically tangible.

But the moment passed, and muscle memory kicked in. Drawing his other arm around the child, Sans held them close with a heaving sigh.

"It's gonna be okay, kiddo." He wasn't sure how much he believed it, but he found himself hoping it was true for Frisk's sake. For all of their sakes, really. "You're okay."