They huff and nod their thanks to Gaster, pocketing the knife. There's a faded ribbon tied around their neck, they notice--they're not watching from inside their body anymore, but from the blank eyes of the machine itself.

Frisk watches as they put their hands on Sans' shoulders, trying to sit him up. Even if maybe that isn't the best idea, with how agonized he just seemed to be.

"Gotta get you to a place to heal."