It's not fair, even if that's usually already true. [His tone is agreeing and supportive, despite the lack of hesitation in a tactless implication that Sans is usually a basket case. But Papyrus shakes his head even as he says it.] That said, I'm also weird right now! Something... unplugged, or something.
[He might have chalked it up to a robot thing, except Sans is visibly out of sorts - and, as he checks his notifs, the tracker's sent him a few alerts about things. Breaking and entering?]
...I asked if you were feeling my stuff, because, I'm not. I do remember dying... a lot? [His skull furrows a little more as he realizes just how true that statement is - echoes of death, not just that snowdrift area he confronted the human, but also in other places, beset by roots or bombs or just pellet-bullets.] But I don't feel much about it. Maybe as much as you're feeling too much.
in which Papyrus comes to the conclusion that his emotional intensity flowed into Sans
[He might have chalked it up to a robot thing, except Sans is visibly out of sorts - and, as he checks his notifs, the tracker's sent him a few alerts about things. Breaking and entering?]
...I asked if you were feeling my stuff, because, I'm not. I do remember dying... a lot? [His skull furrows a little more as he realizes just how true that statement is - echoes of death, not just that snowdrift area he confronted the human, but also in other places, beset by roots or bombs or just pellet-bullets.] But I don't feel much about it. Maybe as much as you're feeling too much.