Company is good. And he does miss his brother. And the feel of Frisk's hand stroking his skull feels any better than it has a right to. Sans would be embarrassed if he wasn't so sleepy.

He lets out a huff, and then closes his eyesockets once more, resting his skull on folded up paws. The end of his tail wags a little at Frisk's words - the tail is a bit too long for it to properly resemble a dog's wagging, but the sentiment is the same. But even that slight movement eventually slows and fades. Frisk won't be waiting too long before his breathing grows deep and steady, snores rumbling faintly in his ribcage.