[Oh, the Hubble--Sans likes the Hubble. A ray of fondness pierces through the gloom of Sans's mood; Papyrus is so cool. When Papyrus joins him on the couch again, he loosens up once more. His wings are still wrapped around himself, but it's less clingfilm and more blanket. With that second set of wings at his hips still hanging around, he can make a pretty complete cocoon.]
Y'know, I've got one of those big coffee table books of pics the Hubble took. [Papyrus absolutely knows. When Sans brought it home he'd gone through the whole book more than once and had often demanded Papyrus come over to look at pictures, even knowing Papyrus could look up high res photos with his mind.]
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Y'know, I've got one of those big coffee table books of pics the Hubble took. [Papyrus absolutely knows. When Sans brought it home he'd gone through the whole book more than once and had often demanded Papyrus come over to look at pictures, even knowing Papyrus could look up high res photos with his mind.]