The spiel is tolerated, but only barely. Brow bone drawn, agitation writ into his grin, and with all the zeal of a deeply lore confused vampire, Sans pushes past Miles the moment he offers invitation.

"Okay, yeah, I know. You quip, I quip, we do the whole laughing with our eyes thing, our unlikely friendship secured another day -- it's great. I mean that. But let's skip it just this once."

Turning back to face Miles, Sans roots his feet to the ground. For a creature not technically capable of producing determination, he's practically brimming with it.

"Did you do this?"