Sans lays himself out the best he can on the ground - no further changes happen immediately, but it's only a matter of time. He can feel further pops and cracks bubbling away in his marrow. But the grass and the mud is at least a little soothing. And at least out here...

...Sans laughs. Or at least it's probably a laugh. It's little more than a breathy exhale, but it doesn't sound as painful.

"Least I won't get stuck..."