"We probably should." Sans nods, mirroring Papyrus's complete inaction. Despite himself, and his fierce commitment to perpetual exhaustion, Sans feels almost peppy. His nap did the trick for once, apparently. From how Papyrus' skull jerks upright every thirty seconds or so, his brother isn't so lucky.

Is this how Papyrus feels all the time?

"There sure are a lot of 'em." Sans' tone shifts imperceptibly from thoughtful to sly. "Wonder how many."

Putting a bony finger to the MID's holographic display, Sans begins to count, his voice low and droning: One... two... three... four...