He feels her hand curl around his. Sans' isn't in quite the right shape anymore to return the hold, but he tries. He can't bring himself to pull away from that much.

At her words, his breathing grows faster in mounting panic. The tears overflow his eyesockets and spill down his cheeks. "I don't know," Sans yowls, but he's very, very scared that the answer might well be "nothing".

Sans stares around - at her, at the wall, at the suit of armor. He squeezes her hand a little tighter. Perhaps there is one thing...

"...outside."