[Another good reason to have gone with holding still: the burst of pressurized air doesn't even make him flinch. Sans has never been as good at building things as Papyrus, but he's running through his own mental calculations as to how much damage has been done even so. It's hard to tell from a distance, but it's not as if Papyrus's head is falling off, and of course that's immediately what he starts thinking about. He can't think about that right now. He forces himself to stop, drags his train of thought to a screeching halt.
He can feel the urge to fix it again, hissing at him in the back of his mind. But he can't risk that when he doesn't know if it will still rebound pointlessly. Papyrus can fix it. Papyrus is better equipped to fix it, honestly.
Most of Sans's body is too drained of magic to start glowing, but his soul has enough to start getting brighter. It's not enough for Papyrus to see directly, but Sans's phone is certainly close enough to pick up on it.]
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He can feel the urge to fix it again, hissing at him in the back of his mind. But he can't risk that when he doesn't know if it will still rebound pointlessly. Papyrus can fix it. Papyrus is better equipped to fix it, honestly.
Most of Sans's body is too drained of magic to start glowing, but his soul has enough to start getting brighter. It's not enough for Papyrus to see directly, but Sans's phone is certainly close enough to pick up on it.]