Hand tucked neatly back into his pocket, Sans looks on with vague displeasure on his face. He really doesn't like doing this, nor does he relish thinking what Papyrus would say if he could see Rinzler now. Murderer or not, he had a soul.

It's Papyrus, not Rinzler, that prompts him to conjure a femur. It glows green, illuminating Sans' skull with a sickly cast.

"I'm not saying you need to be reprogrammed, I'm saying you need to get your command line in order. Peter shouldn't have done what he did, but this little web goes back longer than that and we both know it. You've gotta learn to keep yourself in line, kid. It's in your best interest."

He tosses the bone towards Rinzler, following it up with a few more. He's not much of a healer, but magic is magic. It works as well on robotic creatures as it does on organic ones. A soul is a soul.

And as quickly as the cruel twist to his perpetual grin came, it smooths away once more. Sans looks nothing if not benign, as if he just gave Rinzler some folksy advice instead of a beatdown.

"Hope you're feeling better. Think on what we talked about, okay? I don't really have the guts for this kinda thing, hehe."

With one last tap on the bars, Sans winks: "Seeya around, Rinzy. I've always got an eye socket out, don't forget."

If Rinzler looks up, he'll find the space Sans occupied moments before suddenly very, very empty.