"You're the one parading down the hall with a knife and--those." he says, icily. It's a wonder the walls don't freeze over. And what the hell are the skulls, anyway? All he knows is that they reek of magic.

But.

They haven't charged him yet and neither has Sans. They've had enough time. He relaxes, just a hair, though he doesn't return to the ground. "I take it they're not for me after all?"