The harm in question was present, but floating below the surface. Sans' naturally baggy appearance hide it well, but under his clothes were a maze of small bone spurs, jutting out and resembling the dragon-like creature he'd become before his death.

Absorbing a soul had lasting negatives, apparently. Or the reviving powers that be had a nasty sense of humor.

"Kid, I'm a monster. Our suggested daily intake of sap is through the freakin' roof." He caps the sentiment with a quick clap of the hand against Peter's back. His own way of saying I missed you, too. "But it's a good thing I ran into you."

That friendly, warm contact at Peter's back quickly turns into a tugging motion. Peter might find himself suddenly a little closer to Sans' eye level.

"Met our new overlords yet?"