[The arms are still invisible, so exactly where they are at this moment is a mystery. Sans is still staring down at his chest. Or a chest that belongs to someone whose skull he's riding around in.]
Just this thing. [The weird magic orb, that is. He presses just a little harder on the orb, and his fingers dip into the magic, but he pulls back his hand like he got scalded.] I think the arms are made of the same thing this is.
[Just magic, Sans thinks, without the dust that usually holds a monster together. If Papyrus is gaining matter, Sans is losing it.]
no subject
Just this thing. [The weird magic orb, that is. He presses just a little harder on the orb, and his fingers dip into the magic, but he pulls back his hand like he got scalded.] I think the arms are made of the same thing this is.
[Just magic, Sans thinks, without the dust that usually holds a monster together. If Papyrus is gaining matter, Sans is losing it.]