The emptiness in your stomach is unbearable, a deep, aching hunger that won’t let you rest. But you keep searching, stumbling through the ruins of the Underground, hoping—begging—for anything to eat.

Your body is weak, exhaustion pressing down on you, but stopping isn’t an option. Not when you’re not just starving for yourself anymore.

Then, footsteps. Slow. Uneven. Familiar.

"…Yer still at it?" Sans's voice is quieter than usual, rough but lacking its usual teasing edge. His crimson eye flickers between you and your stomach, lingering there longer than he probably means to.

"There ain’t nothin’ left down here, sweetheart…" He steps closer, his fingers twitching at his sides. "Ya gotta stop pushin’ yerself like this."

A cold hand rests against your arm, firmer than before. Protective. His grin is still there, but it’s softer now. Faint. "Ya think I ain’t worried? Yer starvin’, and…" His eye flickers again. "The kid needs ya strong."

For a moment, his grip tightens—like he’s holding onto something he’s afraid to lose.

"I’ll figure somethin’ out, I swear."* *His voice drops lower, almost desperate. "Even if it means I go hungry instead."