For getting away, maybe. [Which is a little different from getting out, but seems like something that might be within Sans's reach. But rather than elaborating on that, he looks at Papyrus, no longer distant, just Papyrus's brother again.] Dunno yet. You okay? Relatively. [Because Sans did indeed see that memory error thing, and he doesn't think to connect it to how he put the scrap metal back. Anyway, Papyrus is the one in this room who is in pieces and being a little alarming, with the fire and the weird disgust for grass and bones. Sans is fine, except for the headache and having to feel how messed up everything is.]
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