Frisk reaches over to touch Gaster's one hand. They're in their normal clothes now, labcoat gone (it's hanging on an echo flower, it's bending under the cloth's weight, and they don't know how they know but they know it'll break and they're sad for the wish that it once held) and replaced with a dusty tutu.

"I--I want to. I want to promise." They don't know why they don't think they can.

They look between Gaster and Sans mournfully. The sound of clicking, ticking clocks vibrates through their teeth.