At the very least, holding Frisk through the worst of their tears gave Sans time to think. Something about this felt so familiar to him, in a way that hurt more than it helped.

If he closed his eyes and really gave himself over to the sensation, his mind even began to supply context. They weren't on the floor of a ship millions of miles from home, but rather in a house under the stars -- real stars. And while Sans rubbed their back through a nightmare, it was with a reminder that the worst was over now. They were safe, and it was all thanks to Frisk.

Of course, the flash of memory was gone before Sans could appreciate it. Looking back down at the curled up child in his lap, Sans rose to his feet -- child and all. They were easy to carry, especially with their arms looped around his neck like a particularly stubborn limpet.

"C'mon, kid. Let's get you back to bed." His voice was soft, bouncing around the large observatory with each word. "What deck are you on?"