Maybe feathers are happening somewhere else! We haven't checked yet! [But while Papyrus pulls the phone up to his chest, it's more to hug it to him as he sits down next to his brother, still not checking his back. Nobody's slightly hyperventilating, that's just ordinary computer vents kicking on a little louder because he's having a lot of feelings. Like surprise, dread, resignation, and something... apologetic? that seems secondhand.

He focuses instead on looking at Sans's newly heavier wing, and reaches out to touch one of the feathers again.] Do you... I wonder, if you can fly with this. [His tone isn't worrying so much as curious, even hopeful. He hadn't ever really imagined mechanical wings, hadn't seriously considered the thought of building any for himself - not when basically all of the airborne machines he's seen have been helicopter designs. If he doesn't start growing feathers... He's been feeling Sans's fondness of his own wings, and the secondhand feeling's growing on him.]