[A flicker of worry passes through Sans at the question, coming at it as he is from the angle of having been able to fly and now having one of his wings altered. But Papyrus is already dealing with a lot of feelings that Sans can unfortunately also feel, and Sans doesn't want to add onto the negative ones more than he has to. Anyway, the echo of fondness for the wings helps buoy Sans as he reflects it. Moving so he's sitting close enough to Papyrus that their legs touch, he shifts his metal wing around a little, testing the way the feathers respond and getting a feel for the wingspan. It's the same length as his normal one; at least he's not that lopsided.]
Maybe? I mean, maybe not with two different wings, but if they were the same. [If Papyrus built two wings, for example, that might work. Sans isn't so sure about his own chances right now. Going out to the trampoline in the dark would probably not be the greatest idea--anyway, Sans would have to leave the room for that, and he's not really sure how his mind will deal with having eyes inside and outside of the house. (That's a problem for later Sans.)]
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Maybe? I mean, maybe not with two different wings, but if they were the same. [If Papyrus built two wings, for example, that might work. Sans isn't so sure about his own chances right now. Going out to the trampoline in the dark would probably not be the greatest idea--anyway, Sans would have to leave the room for that, and he's not really sure how his mind will deal with having eyes inside and outside of the house. (That's a problem for later Sans.)]