[There's no jaw to open, when Papyrus readies himself to talk, so the signs of aborted words are subtler than they used to be. But the whirring gets louder, a mechanical deep breath as his mind gets to racing and his body reflects it. Watched them all. Each of them, like a preview...? No, Sans sounded... too precise for that. Allof each of them.]
Them all... All of...? [His voice is tight, worry and frustration and a little grief. What an awful thing to imagine. What a worse thing to experience. His arm reaches around the lump, pulls him closer.] ...Sans...
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Them all... All of...? [His voice is tight, worry and frustration and a little grief. What an awful thing to imagine. What a worse thing to experience. His arm reaches around the lump, pulls him closer.] ...Sans...