[It's weird to hear his own voice parroted back at him like that. Sans oozes off the shelf to the floor in much the same way he was dripping light. His own laugh is a little too sharp, a little too close to actual upset, and his soul starts glowing bright enough to be seen again. Everything feels wrong. Some things are just one or two steps off, some have stepped right off a cliff. He wraps his wings around himself like he's trying to keep the glow inside. It makes him feel better.]

Yeah, you know me, I don't walk unless it's an emergency. Did you turn off your voice box or somethin'? [That can't be exactly it if Papyrus is able to repeat what Sans is saying, but it's not as if Papyrus had a voice box to begin with, so some metaphor can be excused. Sans pulls out his phone.] Can you type?