"..."

Sans doesn't want to. If Gaster could was still his soul, he'd probably feel it ache again. Or maybe it just shows in his face, for all the still slight, subtle changes in his expressions.

He brings a hand to his shoulder where he can still feel the tear in his jacket, reminding him that Gaster was probably right. Sans just doesn't want him to be.

He looks down.

"... Okay."

Another pause.

"It usually does around here. Work itself out, I mean."