Psshhh. As if I'd believe your passed on message, about your own misdeeds? [Papyrus's voice is shaky, as he keeps trying to sound like normal. Feeling a need to compensate for the distance in Sans's voice, and the conversation veering dangerously towards... things.] I'll just... ask her myself! When I get the chance!

[If he ever gets the chance. Not looking likely, with how rare that strange lightning is, and how nobody else they've ever known has shown up. And it's not clear why, not when it turned out Sans hadn't died right after him, but after... a real fight, in a golden hallway...? He hasn't thought of that in a while, those memories he kept getting so frustrated with for leaking over the hivemind in the early part of renovating their new home. The echoes of grief and anger and retribution, but more than that the desperation to stop them before it was too late. That heavy, heart-crumbling guilt that even Papyrus's own death hadn't been too late... His fingers come to a trembling halt in his browsing of the gallery, as he stares more into secondhand memory than this copy of his own.]