"woe is not you. get up," Sans grunted, grabbing you by the back of your shirt and picking you up from your position where you had bellyflopped on the bed. He glanced outside at the rain tapping the glass, beckoning for you to go outside. You'd been pestering him for the past 20 minutes to hang out or whatever in the rain with you. "hypothermia isn't cute. can't we sleep some more?" He was well aware, though, that the second you gave him puppy eyes he would have to find his umbrella.