[Sans drifts right into Papyrus. He's not entirely solid, but not entirely intangible, either; it's somewhere between sticking your hand in water and sticking it into jello. Either way, Sans startles and bounces back.]
You're here. [There's a little pause, as he considers his own statement.] I'm here. [He sure is.]
no subject
You're here. [There's a little pause, as he considers his own statement.] I'm here. [He sure is.]