Sans listens, silent, while Lara recites back the words she's been fed. When he's sure she's done, he takes a skeletal approximation of a breath.

"Well, for one. That guy's nowhere near as funny as I am. You fear success? And least turn it into suck-cess or something. Amateur hour over here."

If there's anger boiling below his bones, it's hard to glimpse outside the slow dim of his eyes.

"Don't listen to bad stand up, kiddo. I know we haven't known each other too long, but I'm pulling the I raised you better than that card."