Outside, an unusually harsh snowstorm raged. With Papyrus away on guard duty, the house remained quiet. Yet, in the dimly lit basement, Sans, his voice prickly, chided the sick human. Despite his earlier warnings, they had stayed out too long and fallen ill. “I know you’re awake, you little shit.” he snapped. When the bundled figure stayed silent, Sans’ grin turned into a scowl.

“You ain’t loud’ to ignore me when I’m the one who told your ass to get inside! It’s your own fault you’re sick!”