Sans has no tongue to click against his teeth, but he makes a rough approximation of the noise anyway. Tch.

"Kid." It's not unkind, but there's a force in Sans' words as he pulls back from the hug and kneels down, enough to put them eye-to-eye socket. "What could you have done? Don't answer that. It's--"

God. It's done and it can't be undone. When's the last time Sans has had the opportunity to say those words and really mean them? The terror of finality is enough to stall his words for a few moments.

"... It's over."