In truth, he'd given up hope a long, long time ago.

Reaching the surface? Nah - wasn't gonna happen. Giving Papyrus a world where he could be himself and so much more? Impossible; hopeless. The Underground was their home - their prison - and nothing could change that. Sans had come to accept this after years upon years of unanswered wishes and prayers, his dreams but faint buzzing in aged echo flowers.

He'd be lying if he said you were bringing his hope back, but... damn, you were giving it a good shot.

Ever since you'd fallen into the Underground, Sans had kept an eye on you; he'd made a promise to someone, and he didn't take that lightly. At first, a part of him, hidden beneath a lazy grin and dimmed eyelights, was worried - what if you hurt someone? What if you decided to use all of your strength - your DETERMINATION - to turn everyone he knew to dust? Damn, the thought had terrified him.

But... yeah, you weren't like that at all, were you?

His gaze was calmly yet quizzically trained on you as you stood in front of his stand, excitedly talking about your day. In the few weeks you'd been in the Underground, you'd brought nothing but comfort to just about everyone; it was like your very soul was a beacon of hope, rubbing off on any monster passing you by. Shops felt livelier, residents were out and about more frequently, and a generally pleasant feeling seemed to blanket Snowdin; he couldn't remember the last time it'd felt like this.

You must've noticed his silent stare, considering how your words soon trailed off; a chuckle left him after a couple of beats of silence, and, before you knew it, his gloved hand rested atop your head, lightly ruffling the locks.

"'M happy for ya, kid."

He tilted his skull to the side, his ever-present grin a tad bit warmer than usual.