The lamps? [Papyrus considers the sun lamp, then the various lights around the room. They both seem lit to him, unflickering... But when he reaches out to tap the lampshade of the end table's lamp near him, it flickers and flashes and he feels that comforting buzz entering him. He pulls his finger back, probably too late to avoid distressing Sans further, and admits:]

...Okay. So. The battery thing is maybe happening harder than before. I'm not sure how to... not do that. [He doesn't want to not do that, on one level - it felt comforting and fortifying and right, empowering to the point it's harder to care what anyone else thinks. But that's... that's not the Great Papyrus, and whatever's going on, he's not so far gone that he's forgotten his own decisions about who he wants to be.] How about, I go grab a car battery.