"I'm warnin' ya, my cooking skills are about on par with my bro." Sans chuckles, rubbing the back of his skulls. He's just drunk enough to feel embarrassed, not to mention let it show. "Only he's got n-oodles of style, and all I can do is fumble my way through a recipe."

He takes another drink, the momentum nearly knocking him back off the stool.

"If cooking really is a science, then I'm way more out of practice than I thought."